Prestidigitate
by RadicalTurnip
Summary: Lily finds the best after-school activity: being a hero! After discovering her favorite uncle is a hero too, what could be better? Except there may be a few things standing in the way of her chosen path, including what seems to be an underwhelming power. Can Lily handle all the stress that goes with the life and prove that she has what it takes to be a hero?
1. Chapter 1:1

_The world and many of the characters belong to a much better author than I that goes by the name Wildbow. I'm just borrowing it for a while to see what happens when I poke things with a stick._

[][][][][]

"Now, what'd you want to talk to me about Lily?"

It's impossible to say for certain how I knew that my uncle was a parahuman. Maybe it was the fact that he wouldn't ever join the rest of the extended family around the television when an Endbringer hit, or maybe it was just how evasive he was when people asked about his career. Maybe it was how fit he was, or maybe it was just his beard. Well, it probably wasn't the beard, no matter how well he could grow facial hair. Whatever, the reason didn't really matter because I was his favorite niece and he was my favorite uncle. For the past eight months I had decided that I would do whatever I could to help uncle Jason keep his secret.

He watched me patiently, obviously sensing that I had asked to come the two flights up from our apartment to his for an important reason. I took a deep breath and forced my eyes to look away from his collection of canes and walking sticks occupying an entire wall behind his humble entertainment center. I don't think he watched very much television.

Looking at uncle Jason's face, I finally answered "Well, uh...it's about capes. Er, well, parahumans I mean. Um. I think I am one."

The silence was palpable. I stared at his face but he just sat there looking at me and he didn't even respond and oh my gosh what if I was wrong and he's totally not a cape at all but I just outed myself and I don't even have a name yet or anything and...oh, I must've been hyperventilating because he looked a little concerned there.

"It's okay Lily, just trying to figure out why you would tell me and not your own father?" He asked as a smile softened his features slightly. He was sitting in his comfy leather armchair and I had taken a seat on the couch. We were more beside one another than in front of each other, but it allowed me to look away when I needed to make it less intense. That was one thing uncle Jason was good at (besides growing a beard): being intense.

So since he had brought it up I pretty much had to tell him that I knew, right? I mean, he would probably ask how I knew, and then I wouldn't really know how to respond, but there was absolutely no reason I would tell him except that I knew that he was a superhero. So I leveled my best stare at him and sorta' quirked up an eyebrow as if to say "C'mon uncle Jason, who are you trying to kid here." but after a few seconds it got a bit weird and awkward, so I had to break the silence again. I decided to go with mysterious and see if I could pull it off. "Well. I know." was all I said, then I let him mull it over a bit.

"Okay, Guera, I'm not sure what you think you know, but I have a guess. Why don't you just come out and say what you're thinking so we can actually discuss the interesting and important parts. Like the fact that you're apparently a cape and I don't even know what your power is!" He countered.

Well played uncle, well played. Okay, so as the awkwardness was wearing off, I started to realize that this was uncle Jason here and we were really close for a reason...so maybe I should just say it. "Well...I've know for a while now. Er, well at least I've suspected. And haven't you even been noticing that I've been helping you? What I mean is, you're obviously a superhero, and so it made sense to tell you instead of...anyone else."

He threw his head back and laughed. That wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting.

[][][][][]

Uncle Jason, er, Myrddin (I had been pretty sure he was a cape, but holy crap I didn't know he was the head of the Chicago protectorate!) walked me along the extended high-tech looking pier that led to the PRT building. I had gone with some loose jeans, a black hoodie I had turned inside-out to get rid of the logo, and a bland gray domino mask that he had provided for me. I wore the hoodie with the hood up for extra concealment; I didn't want anyone being able to identify me by my dirty-blonde hair.

When I went home to change I had heated up some leftovers for dinner for both dad and I, then I made sure he got into bed before stealthily choosing my wardrobe and sneaking out the door. From there, Uncle Jason had given me the mask and led me to the roof of the building. When he removed his jacket and donned his own hood-mask-cowl thing, I was floored.

So anyway, we made it to the PRT building with two guards stationed outside what looked like some pretty nicely reinforced doors. As we approached, uncle Myrddin put his hand on my shoulder and a guard stepped aside and began muttering, presumably into his microphone, while the other entered a code and waved us through the door.

I had been inside the gift-shop and touristey areas before, but it looked different with most of the display lights off. My uncle used the hand on my shoulder to halt my pace and turn me to face him. "You sure you want to do this?" He asked. His voice sounded a bit deeper. Maybe more like an old man's voice than I was used to. "It means something to unmask, even if it's just to the PRT. We could go back home and stew on it for a while, if you want."

What could I say to that? I shook my head "No, if you're in the Protectorate I want to be too." When I saw him about to speak up I corrected myself. "Protectorate, Wards, whatever. You know what I mean."

And so we made our way into what looked a bit like an elevator. Or possibly a large, ornate closet...elevators usually had more buttons, but it seemed to take us where we were going. After a very short ride in the elevator that I wasn't certain whether we went up or down (or maybe some completely different direction?), we made our way through a sparsely decorated hallway into a room brilliantly named "Conference Room A."

The room was just large enough to accommodate four chairs and a table that looked the right size but had the wrong feel for a small dining-room table. Sitting in one of the chairs was a middle-aged balding man wearing a suit with all the symptoms that he didn't particularly like wearing them: he had a loosened tie, the top button unbuttoned, and I just managed to catch sight of his shirt untucked beneath the hem of his jacket. As we entered, he stood and offered his hand. "Hi, I'm Steven McCurdy, and you must be the new cape Jason told me about." Surprised at his use of my uncle's name, I looked up just in time to see uncle Jason lowering his metal cowl.

He smiled at me and said "This is where you tell the PRT your name. Your last chance to back out."

I knew why he was being careful, but I didn't really have any reservations. It was a no-brainer. Uncle Jason was there, and I wanted to be too. Being a hero was definitely the most interesting extra-curricular activity I could think of. Sure, Track and Field was nice, I guess. It was cool to see how well I did at all the various activities, but...heroes. I mean c'mon. Sure, my power may not have been the most glamorous or powerful, but any power was almost by definition an edge over an unpowered. So it was with little hesitation that I lowered my hood and removed the mask. I offered my hand to Director McCurdy and put on my best smile. "Hi Director, I'm Lily Walker."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Lily." He began, "Now, this is all just preliminary stuff, but you're going to have to sign a few non-disclosure agreements, a waiver saying you understand risking your life is...well, risking your life. We'll take a few evaluations, then we'll need a parent or guardian here for tax and consent purposes, all pretty standard stuff, especially...well, huh. Jason said he didn't have any children. He's not your legal guardian, is he?"

My heart dropped; I shook my head and saw a mirrored head-shake from my uncle. "Um, no. Is that a problem?" I answered. It's not that I didn't want dad to know...well, I didn't, but he just didn't need that added stress in his life. I didn't need the added stress of him having the added stress in his life in my life. Okay, this was ridiculous. I could unmask to the PRT, I could become a hero to help clean up the city. I could help stop people like Sanguine or Touch and the one thing stopping me, my biggest hurdle, was telling my father.

The Director interrupted my train of thought, seemingly oblivious to it "Well, unless you're over eighteen..." he eyeballed me "Which I doubt, we're going to need to bring your parents in to finalize anything."

After that, the meeting was pretty short since we didn't actually have anything useful to do. Uncle Myrddin offered to be there for the conversation with my dad, but I just needed to think about it. I let my uncle fly me home, but I needed time to think, so I trudged down the stairs, one flight at a time, while he did the sensible thing and took the elevator.

I just couldn't wrap my head around telling my father. I guess a part of me had learned to shield him from any pain or even irregularities in my life. I knew he cared about me...but honestly I was better at taking care of myself than he was. Heck, I was better at taking care of him than he was. Ever since mom got taken he seemed...hollow. I could barely remember it myself, but I remembered growing up fast, figuring out how to take care of myself.

My breath was heavy and my legs were burning from taking so many stairs. But one thought came into focus. An idea that actually made me stop and consider it before I cast it away with revulsion. Even so, it was tempting. But no, I couldn't do that to my father, even if I knew I could pull it off. To quietly make somebody else my guardian would require having him declared unfit for the job. I couldn't do that to him even if people would jump on the idea. People would believe anything of him. People would believe anything of a victim of the Simurgh.

[][][][][]

 _I'm starting this for the same reason that Wildbow gives for starting Worm: I want to force myself to write and stop deleting everything I make because "it isn't good enough". I feel like I have a very long way to go with dialogue, so I would appreciate any tips on that front. Other than that, what do you guys think?_


	2. Chapter 1:2

I always thought it was weird how strong of a correlation not being able to sleep and not being able to wake up had. I mean, sure, it made a lot of sense, but it also seemed unfair that I both get punished by not being able to sleep when I needed to, and for wanting to sleep when I couldn't. But no matter the unfairness, I put fourth the herculean effort to force myself into a sitting position before I turned off the alarm on my cell phone. Without even having to try it I knew what sort of horrible spiral getting myself used to hitting a snooze button would do, and so I forced myself the rest of the way out of my twin bed and shuffled down the hallway into the bathroom.

I suppose there is one good thing to be said about the parahuman power I got, it lends itself to a lot of nice creature comforts. Well, and laziness. With a little planning, I could be extremely lazy. Locking the door behind me, I absorbed my underwear and the the loose T-shirt and fuzzy pants that were my pajamas into what I could only figure was an extradimensional space. Currently occupying said space, I had several changes of clothes, assorted jewelry, a kitchen knife, some pepper spray, my backpack, a spare pencil, my phone, and an empty pretzel bag that I really needed to remember to throw away at some point. I had a hazy understanding of how full what I had begun thinking of as my "grab-bag" was and a sort of recollection or list of what all I had in there.

Stepping under the warming cascade of water that allowed the grogginess to slowly dissipate from my limbs and mind, I began wetting my long hair and working shampoo, then conditioner into it. At one point I accidentally knocked the bottle of bubble-bath I kept on the side of the tub down into the watery bath, but I just tapped it with the side of my foot to bag it, and then brought my finger to where it belonged and made it reappear in its proper place.

After the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself and made my way to my bedroom. Due to the shower helping me wake up, my steps were much more spry than on my way to it. Choosing my outfit for the day was simple, I just threw open my closet or a drawer on my dresser, touched an article of clothing to make it disappear, and then moments later it would appear in the appropriate spot on my body. I mean, sure, I could make pants appear on my head; but going to school like that might raise too many questions, and I had a secret identity to keep now.

Going into the kitchen I heated up some instant oatmeal for dad and I. While it microwaved, I got myself a drink of water, then filled up a glass of orange juice for him. "You up dad?" I called from the kitchen, as I added a pinch of brown sugar and sliced up a banana for my oatmeal. His oatmeal got a fair amount more brown sugar and the rest of the banana.

"Yeah hon, I'll be out in a second." He grunted and I heard him shift his weight from the bed to his chair. I had the table set (well, there was food and silverwear on it. Who actually sets the table for a quick breakfast?) by the time he rolled himself out.

It's a strange feeling to both be utterly used to something and completely saddened by it at the same time. For me, it was my father. My memories from before dad had a spinal injury were vague, but even from the pictures I had seen it was obvious that of the two men, the one standing on his legs was the real Michael Walker, and the one in the chair was simply a sad imitation. Dad still had the barrel chest—though it was starting to go to fat, if I was honest with myself—but his legs were thinner than his arms. On the back of his hand sat that tattoo of a swan that had made his life so miserable.

Decent jobs wouldn't hire. Nothing that required a person to be face-to-face with customers or doing any sort of sales. The jobs that did hire would only pay a fraction of what the non D.D.I.D. workforce was paid, and of course anyone with that tattoo (and the related Simurgh stigma) could forget about promotions. Right now, dad was doing stay-at-home data entry for sixteen hours a week which supplemented what he got from disability pay, even though it really should have been the other way around.

"Oatmeal again, eh girly?" He joked, snapping me out of my ruminating as he wheeled into his spot at the table, "I figured you'd be tired of it by now."

"Oh, I'm tired of it, I just know you're more tired of it." I said with a half-grin. It looked like today was one of his good days. "It's a war of attrition." I scooped a spoonful into my mouth while staring at him with wide eyes. Hopefully, the look I gave him was one of defiance. Yep, defiance would definitely fit the situation better than constipation or any number of other looks that are surprisingly similar if you thought about it.

It seemed to work, because he laughed at my antics before we settled into a companionable silence. As our bowls quickly emptied, I was working up the nerve to talk to him about...everything. It was so much to tell him. Especially him. By the time I had mustered the nerve, I had also realized that this conversation would take more time than I had before I had to leave for school. It crossed my mind that maybe, I had just found another way to dodge the responsibility and never really had mustered the nerve. Whichever was true, I found myself pushing him into his desk, kissing him on the cheek, and then walking out the door without a word of it spoken.

[][][][][]

When the bus came to a halt in front of me I climbed on and found a seat, but my mind was wandering elsewhere. I didn't really have much time in the mornings to experiment with the powers I had only had for six days, and I certainly wasn't going to risk blowing my cover on the bus ride or at school. Ah school, it's amazing how something so mundane can waste so much time for a potential hero. And yet my powers didn't mean I could simply not go to school. If anything, the requirement to go was stronger if I ever managed to get into the Wards. Oh well, I had long consigned myself to simply keeping my head down and getting all the work done. Of course, that had become a lot more difficult since I became a cape. Why would I want to spend fourty-five minutes on algebra homework when I could be experimenting with my powers, or thinking about cape names, or trying to figure out a costume?

And speaking of algebra, the bus had arrived and I would be walking toward that class shortly after a visit to my locker. The students around me were trying to mill about, but lacked the room. Many were half-standing half-crouching in their aisles like that would help them get off the bus any faster. After most of the seats in front of mine had exited, I finally joined them in their hunched-over positions before having enough room to straighten and making my way off the bus.

Using a locker never felt more pointless. My power made it trivial for me to carry any and all the books for the day (no strained back muscles, either!), but I had to maintain appearances, and so I piled all but two of my books into my locker, closed it, and spun the lock. Walking past the graffiti of a circle around an open palm, I lost myself in the mass of people on the trek halfway across the school to algebra.

Honestly? I felt like I didn't really belong with the rest of the students in my school, and I think it showed. While I wasn't really a pariah, I certainly wouldn't be considered popular, either. Sure, "popular" was a title I would have loved to have. At times the little girl inside of me yearned for the adoration of my classmates: I wanted to boys to like me and the girls to want to be me...but most of the time it all seemed like so much work. No, there were really only two titles that people would stick to me most of the time: "ice queen" or "tomboy." Ice queen because I wasn't interested in dating any of the nervous sweaty-palmed shy boys that didn't even know me but somehow knew we would be great together, and tomboy because I was often a bit of a tomboy.

It didn't matter that the end of school was less than a week away, or that it was probably some of the most perfect weather we would have all year (which you never really appreciate until you're stuck inside for most of it). Today was the second day of Finals, and so Mrs. Schumaker's class promised to only be more interesting than usual because 1) I was banking 20% of my grade on this test, and 2) I didn't have to listen to Mrs. Schumaker's droning. And so, despite all the math cartoons on the wall that would have been more suited to an elementary school than a high school, I removed a pencil from my backpack instead of retrieving one the easy way and prepared my mind for a day of tests. Yippee!


	3. Chapter 1:3

Finals. Blegh. Hero High School was, unfortunately, not a high school just for prospective heroes. Instead, it was a high school built and designed by urban planners and had had about ten minutes of input from Hero. As far as I knew, the only thing remotely tinker-tech was the recursive perpetual motion device that powered the high school and the Endbringer shelter it sat atop. Of course, if the administration was to be believed, he practically built the place from the ground up with his bare hands. As the school occupied a longish wedge with the point where two nearly parallel (but not quite!) streets intersected, any sports activities had to be held at the nearby Lincoln Park.

New transfers seemed to usually take some time adjusting to a high school that was more tall than wide, but it was pretty normal for me by the end of my Freshman year. As I rode the elevator to the ground floor to catch my bus home, I heard the distant rumble of thunder. Great, It'd probably be pouring by the time I had to make the dash from the bus to the apartment building. As the elevator doors opened I heard...fireworks? I stopped only a few steps short of the outside door as the dawning realization of what I was actually hearing made my legs week and my mouth suddenly dry. I could handle cape fights or PRT action in theory, I'd experienced them a few times before. I'd even seen Legend and Alexandria briefly in a fight with Filter back when the Masks had still been an active gang in Chicago. This time was different, this time I knew that I should get involved. If nothing else, I could assist in rescue work.

The students around me had reached the same conclusion that I had and I could feel the tension in the room. A few people started talking about the Endbringer shelter, and, honestly, it made sense...but I knew that unless the situation out there was dire, it wouldn't be opened. The vice-principal (what was his name? Mr. Sommers?) was pushing his way through the crowd toward the front doors and I suddenly I knew what was coming. I had to make a decision quickly or it would be made for me. It looked like maybe a third of the student body was already outside and I even saw that some of the buses had left before I had arrived, but the tide of students outside was starting to grow nervous. Soon, they would be pushing their way inside, and Mr. Sommers would be blocking anyone from exiting. It would be so easy to just...wait. Not go out there. Wait until I was trained and had a team to back me up.

I found myself pushing open the door and stepping out. I had to help. I made my way toward the corner. If I could get around to the other side of the school, I could possibly get clear enough to make my way toward the battle without people seeing me and thinking I was crazy. If I could find a nook or alleyway somewhere so that I could change into...what? I didn't have a costume yet. I had the hoodie from the previous night, but I had given the mask back to uncle Jason. Another crashing noise reverberated off the buildings. It was getting closer. As everyone looked toward the source of the sound, I slipped around the acute corner and started a fast jog along the side of my school that would hopefully bring me closer to the conflict but away from the eyes of my classmates.

The gunfire had mostly died down to the occasional single burst, but I could still hear the occasional discharge of whatever conspicuous power or device was generating those crashes. Whatever it was, it was loud, and it was sudden. The streets were beginning to take on a deserted look. Business signs and marquis were turned off and there wasn't a person in sight. Only an idiot would be out in this. But it gave me the opportunity I needed to improvise something to conceal my identity. Ducking into an alley between buildings that was only a few feet wide, I made my way toward the other side and then looked up. I studied the few windows there were on this side of the building for a few moments to ensure I wasn't being watched, then glanced both ways down the alleyway before bagging my shirt and shorts and immediately unbagging blue jeans and the black hoodie inside out.

An observer (hopefully there were none) would have maybe caught a brief glimpse of my underwear and bra between the green and blue of my shirt and shorts to the black and blue of the hoodie and jeans. That only left a way to conceal my identity. I remembered several years ago for Halloween having to help my cousin Chris with his ninja costume. He had waited until the last moment to find a costume, and so had had to improvise one. Once he looked up a way to contort a t-shirt into a ninja mask, he had quickly settled on his costume. I was pretty sure I could remember how it worked...

With only a thought, the "mask" appeared on my face in the proper configuration. I felt around to ensure it was covering all the proper parts and realized that the sleeves at the back of my head that were supposed to be in a tight knot were still a bit loose, but otherwise it seemed to work as I had envisioned it. I tightened the sleeves and poked my head out of the opposite end of the alley than I had come in. Good, the streets still seemed mostly empty. As I made my way to the next cross-street, I suddenly heard a woman yell, followed immediately by a blinding flash and a bone-rattling clap.

Instinctively, my head snapped up and toward the sound. Ah, that explained why it had sounded like thunder. It actually was thunder. And lightning. Voltaic was hovering only about three hundred yards away, high enough to be seen above the four-story building across the street from me. Voltaic was a solo villain that had gone to ground (pun only slightly intended) more than a year ago after causing enough damage that the city had declared a state of emergency for a day or two. His costume was an eclectic mixture of metal body armor with dozens of what looked like old TV antennas sticking out, mostly from his back or shoulders. Over his face he wore what looked like the 80's idea of a futuristic visor that came down to his nose and a glowing blue line across where his eyes should be. Honestly, he looked a bit like a stylized porcupine.

Obviously, he was fighting somebody to be throwing lightning like that. I had no place in this battle, but I could go ensure that nobody was injured from that lightning. Slinking as best I could toward the nearest street that could get me a visual on the damage it had done, I noticed out of the corner of my eye Voltaic seemed to have decided to move on and turned to continue flying the direction he presumably had been. Just as he passed next to a taller building than the ones around it, I heard another yell and saw Voltaic suddenly change course and swivel his body to look around. Just then I heard a gunshot coming from what sounded like the building he had just passed.

I still hadn't seen who he'd been fighting, but at this point I could guess. Echolocate was a relatively new hero that could teleport to anywhere her voice reached. Some people on the Parahumans Online boards seemed to think she had a Thinker rating too, but the rumor was never officially confirmed. I'd have to remember to ask uncle Jason about that later. The gunshot seemed to do something, because Voltaic fell out of the sky and disappeared again from my view shortly before I heard another yell. Heaven forbid if that poor lady ever got laryngitis.

I rounded the corner to see the bent and distorted form of a trashcan with some of its garbage on fire and black scorch-marks around it, but other than that the lightning bolt didn't seem to have done any serious damage. Shrugging I made my way toward the most recent conflict between Echolocate and Voltaic. Just because it hadn't done any major damage this time didn't mean it wouldn't in the future if they continued fighting. I could pull clean-up duty at least.

After only a few steps, however, I heard a new sound. A sort of loud pop. It was immediately followed by a ragged scream. A body appeared in front of me. It had two burn marks that had gone right through her costume and melted the skin. One was on her left shoulder, and the other right above her right hip. I rushed forward, but didn't really know what to do. I could tell she was still breathing. Short, fast breaths that looked like she was hyperventilating, and her body was twitching like she was in severe pain. My vision was blurring for some reason as I stood there uselessly, grasping for what to do. Tears. Tears were falling from my eyes and I wasn't really ready for this at all. What...how did you treat electricity burns? Were you supposed to cover them up? There seemed to be a lot of pus and blood, maybe they needed to dry out? I wasn't sure if anything I had would help or if it would just hurt. After all, the clothes I had in my grab-bag weren't sterilized.

I decided that I had to try. I took a deep breath to focus, and then unbagged a white under-shirt that I hadn't worn since washing it. I tried to rip it at first, but of course I couldn't just rip a shirt in half like some sort of Brute, so I brought out the kitchen knife and began cutting it. Once I had a cut, I found that I could rip it so I bagged the knife. "Okay Echolocate. Stay with me." I said, not even really sure if she was conscious anymore or not. I gently laid the shirt on her shoulder wound and then brought it around through her armpit so that I could secure it. Something from movies I had seen reminded me that I should make it tight, so I gently looped it into a knot, then pulled hard to tighten it. Echolocate screamed and disappeared from in front of me.

Spinning, I tried to locate her, looking up and down, but I couldn't see her anymore. It must've been an instinctive reaction because now I didn't even know where she was to get her help. A bit scared, I bagged the other half of the shirt and unbagged my phone, then fumbled to dial 911. I wish I knew the number for the PRT, but I didn't have that memorized...but I did have uncle Jason's cell phone number. Hanging up before the other call connected, I speed-dialed uncle Jason. Myrddin.

After three rings without an answer I felt a hand grab my neck as another one wrapped around my torso. "Hang up the phone." Voltaic said.


	4. Chapter 1:4

My muscles stiffened and my body froze. I couldn't help it. Slowly, I brought the phone down from my head and moved my other hand to hang up. As I was doing so my ears strained, trying to hear a hint of somebody answering the phone. Anything. But my finger made it's inexorable way to the phone and I pushed the big red button on the screen to hang up having not heard anything but ringing.

"Now drop it." Voltaic whispered in my hear.

I started to protest. Not even sure what I would say I stammered "but..." but even before I finished speaking his had tightened to something painful around my neck. The adrenaline coursing through my system had me taking short shallow breaths and I could literally feel my hair beginning to stand on end. It felt like time had slowed down, I saw everything happening in slow motion, and yet it was all happening far too quickly as if time had sped up. I dropped the phone. As I was doing so I moved my arm slightly, trying to angle the phone toward my body so it didn't shatter on the pavement. Perhaps it was foolish to try to save something as replaceable as a phone and risk my own life, but it just wasn't in me to destroy it.

Whatever my motivation, the phone angled toward me just enough to catch the edge of my shoe before clacking loudly on the pavement. Some small part of me hoped that that was enough to keep it from shattering. The larger part of me didn't care. My mind was grasping for answers. Voltaic had shown no restraint in his spree of crime and destruction the previous year; he showed no compassion earlier with Echolocate; and I had a strange hunch that he wouldn't suddenly develop a conscience when it came to me. I thought about trying to play it off like I was a civilian, there was a good chance he hadn't seen my use my power at all...but then I remembered what I was wearing. The getup screamed 'amateur cape on their fist day out'.

Moving his arm from around my midsection to rest lightly on my lower back, then violently pushing on my neck, Voltaic made it known that he wanted me to start moving. "I can fly." He said. Just as my mind began to reel at the non-sequitur, he continued, "right now, you may be useful enough to make me walk. Make sure that I don't change my mind about that." Obediently, I began to walk in the direction he indicated. It seemed like there was something I was missing. Something about the whole situation that didn't add up. He actions when he was fighting Echolocate didn't quite make sense. Why hadn't he shot lightning at her again instead of feigning being injured? As my hair style began to go from "conditioned this morning" to "hottest most humid day imaginable" it finally clicked.

Had it been a short enough time since he had used his ability? It felt like longer, but between the time I had heard the scream and started helping Echolocate to now...yes, it had probably been long enough for him to do to me what he had done to her, I couldn't risk it. I sighed audibly (Fortunately, there were no immediate repercussions for just that from him). I needed him to not be able to make a circuit with my body, or to wait for him to expend his electrical reservoir before making a play.

As we made it to a street intersection, my hope began to come crashing down. Now that he wasn't fighting anyone, he had no reason to shoot lightning bolts. Without him shooting lightning bolts whenever he could, who was to say that he couldn't store several bolts worth of charge? Looking up and down the street, presumably for incoming threats, he wrenched on my neck again to make me turn right. The hoodie and long jeans were having an effect on me in the heat. My face being covered certainly wasn't helping, but while I had to walk, I could still think. What if the reason the power was out to this part of the city was because they didn't want him getting a direct link to the grid so that he could drain it? That would probably mean that they could track Echolocate's movement! Unfortunately, I hadn't heard any yells or indication that she was even still alive...and we were moving away from her. We could come to a powered section of the city at any moment, and then I would have no chance of escape.

As we continued past the next intersection, his voice interrupted my train of thought. "What's your power?" He asked bluntly. As I was working out if I wanted to answer truthfully, and how exactly I wanted to explain my abilities, I felt a jolt course through my back, seizing it up as though I was connected to a live wire. Though the power expenditure lasted only a moment, my back and hip continued to have a deep raw ache. "No surprises, just answers." He said gruffly.

"Uh, well I-I make things go away, and then I can make them come back whenever I want." I stammered. It was a sloppy bare-bones explanation, but it seemed to be enough for him. His willingness to hurt me and his curt attitude had cowed my defiance rather quickly. It was embarrassing, actually, but I really didn't like to be hurt, and I had all but seen this man electrocute a hero to near-death.

After a few more silent moments of walking, he stopped me and said "show me."

"Uh..." I shrugged, looking around. "I need something to show you with."

Exasperated, he bent over to pick up a piece of rubbish sitting on the street next to me, removing his hand from my neck to do so.

With barely a thought, my right hand slapped his metal outfit and bagged it, leaving him nearly naked, while my other hand had formed an empty fist in which the kitchen knife appeared facing downward even as my feet were pivoting and the hand had begun to travel backward to lodge the knife into his back. The knife was mere inches from his back when my right side exploded with renewed pain. The agony made the previous suffering of a minute ago laughable in comparison. My right arm shot out in a spasm even as my right leg buckled from a spasm of its own.

Fortunately, the momentum of my spin and the stab carried my thrust through, but my leg falling lowered the point of impact to just a little above his waist-line. Kitchen knives aren't really built for stabbing, and especially not stabbing a person as hard as you can in a combat situation. The wide angle of the blade meant that the point sunk less than two inches deep, but Voltaic screamed in sheer agony, his voice going ragged in seconds from the abuse before he vomited from the pain. Which was fortunate, because it took me several seconds to compose myself as my body refused to cooperate and instead decided to flop on the street uselessly.

Finally, I managed to gain enough control of my limbs to push myself into a kneeling position and assess the situation. Even that small effort sent waves of agony coursing through my body, seemingly focused on all of my joints. Voltaic was lying still in a puddle of his own vomit, somewhat scared to touch him, I used my foot to push him out of the puddle so he wouldn't suffocate before tapping the knife to re-bag it. Then I turned my examination on myself. Big mistake. Sometimes it seems like the brain ignores pain signals until it has visual confirmation of the damage. That's what happened to me. As I examined my side there were burn marks from about my upper hip to my mid-calf. I doubled over with a very unladylike grunt as the pain washed over me. I knew I would have easily died had the electricity completed a circuit through my body.

I would say I regained my composure, but really there was no composure; there was just an instinctual drive for survival as I staggered back in the direction we had come from. The two-and-a-half short blocks we had walked before stretched before me into an agonizing journey filled with lurching movements and unstifled moans of pain. My vision blurred several times as I had to wipe the tears from my eyes. I wasn't even really sure why I was crying. The fact that I had been so stupid that I almost got myself killed on my first day out? The fact that I may have just killed a man? No, actually the real reason was the screaming abrasive pain as every touch of my pants and shirt rekindled the agony anew.

Finally reaching my phone I picked it up and pressed the side button to turn the screen on. Good, it still worked. A hint of worry flickered across my mind that uncle Jason hadn't even acknowledged my call yet, but it quickly got lost as I dialed 9-1-1. And got a prerecorded message. "We're sorry, Chicago Emergency Services is experiencing an unusually high call volume. Please stay on the line. Estimated wait time is 'ten' minutes."

Unleashing a scream of pent up pain and frustration, I almost threw the phone at a wall. I restrained myself, and used my phone's internet connection to look up the PRT's number. Maybe I would have more luck there.

As it turns out, plenty of people had the same idea that I did. I spent far too long in a throbbing agony as I navigated various menus saying single-word responses. On the bright side, the PRT had much more efficient ways of siphoning their call volume. On the down side, despite the pain I managed to feel completely ridiculous attempting to get medical attention for a hero and myself while wondering if the man I had stabbed was bleeding out or had regained consciousness and would come to kill me at any moment, and I was standing on the side of a street saying short-answer responses to a tinny voice. "Yes." "Yes." "No." "Criminal Parahuman Activity." "No." "Yes." "A member of the Protectorate or Wards requires medical attention." "Yes."

Finally I was connected to a real operator and, wonder of wonders, I didn't have to repeat everything that I had just told the machine. "PRT Emergency Mobile Medical, this is Michelle, what is your location?"

"Uhm..." I articulated as I looked up for a street sign. The surprise of suddenly speaking to a person instead of a machine didn't help. "North Park and Evergreen."

"Okay ma'am, we're dispatching an ambulance and a PRT escort right now. Who was the injured hero?"

"I think it was Echolocate. She's suffered some pretty bad burns and electrical damage from Voltaic. I tried to patch her up but I think she was in too much pain and teleported away before I could do much." I said, fighting to keep the panic from my voice.

"Okay, are you in any danger? If Voltaic's active, I strongly recommend you get underneath something and near a metal sign or light post. Keep a low profile until the PRT gets there." Michelle said.

"No, I stabbed him. I think he's unconscious. He's bleeding a lot." I looked up and down the street I had come from, and then actually looked up, searching the sky. I was pretty sure he was unconscious...but I really didn't want to be wrong. The fact that his body was around a corner meant that I couldn't visually alleviate my fears.

"Okay ma'am, stay on the line with me. I need you to tell me what's happening around you." Michelle said. Part of me was really impressed. She was good at getting me to calm down. I could start assessing where I would go from here.

Eventually I heard sirens quickly approaching. I stayed on the line with her until the ambulance arrived.

[][][][][]

 _Well, I've managed in almost a week and a half to write almost as much as Wildbow writes two and a half times a week. I have no idea how he does it. Anyway, I've found that I enjoy writing a lot. It's basically sucking away almost all of my free time. I don't really know if any improvement in writing can be seen yet, but I do know that it's becoming easier for me on this side of the screen. Let me know of any problems or flaws you see!_


	5. Chapter 1:5

_I've decided to change Lilly's name to Lily because my wife is teasing my mercilessly about it being misspelled. No respect for artistic license these days. It's sad really. But no, I hadn't intended for her name to be a strange spelling, I apparently just don't know how to spell. I'm going back and changing the first chapter (the only chapter it has actually appeared in), as well as future chapters._

 _Also, I was hoping to get more writing done this week than I did, but life had its own ideas._

 _[][][][][]_

The good news was that the rather painful burn I received hadn't caused any permanent damage and there were procedures in place so that a cape (especially one that had helped apprehend a criminal) could get medical care without revealing her identity. The bad news was that when I left the hospital, there was no way that dad wouldn't notice my tardiness or the way I favored my entire right side. The procedure was made somewhat more difficult by the fact that I hadn't really chosen a name for myself. Finally, I settled on a temporary name of Grab-Bag. There was no way I was keeping it permanently, but then again I also figured it wasn't taken.

I was just getting ready to sign myself out of the PRT hospital when uncle Jason as Myrddin strode in, his robe looking a bit worse for the wear. Despite my very cunning disguise of the dark purple shirt wrapped around my head in a "ninja mask", he recognized me immediately. I could see the frustration and relief warring on the part of his face I could see, but he simply stopped in front of me without saying anything. Looking over my shoulder to the sign-out sheet, he glanced at me and calmly spoke. "May I speak to you in private for a moment, Grab-Bag?"

Why did he want to talk here, exactly? And what was there to talk about? A bit confused, I simply nodded, hoping that any onlookers would take whatever strange body language I was presenting as the overwhelmed excitement of a fan. Instead of leading my anywhere, however, uncle Myrddin raised his ever-present staff held vertically with both hands and simply intoned "Solitude" in a deep voice, before bringing it down again and striking the ground with the staff's butt. The click of his staff seemed loud in the sudden silence produced, and the color drained away from the world around me. I could still get a feel of where everything and everyone was, but when I turned my gaze to the nearest person, they appeared hazy and as I attempted to focus on them I began to feel nauseous.

I didn't have much time to marvel at the strange shadow-world we had entered into as uncle Jason flung off his cowl scowling at me. "What the hell were you doing out there Lily? Trying to get yourself killed?"

Recoiling in surprise at the anger in his voice, I had to make a defense, "What? No! I was trying to help. I wasn't even going to fight but Voltaic grabbed me and was taking me somewhere and he said he wanted me alive so I had to..."

"Voltaic's dead." uncle Jason said. "You stabbed him in the kidney and he died from the trauma before the ambulance even arrived."

"Okay, so he was a villain and he was threatening...my life...and..." and what? That made it okay to just end somebody's life? What if he was somebody's husband, or their brother? He was certainly somebody's son, but what if he was also a father? I had just ended another human beings life.

Being told you killed somebody? It does something to you.

Sure, everybody talks about the theoretical situations. "If you could kill Jack Slash before he got his powers, would you do it?" And of course everybody says yes. But they didn't know that the real emphasis of the question should be on the "you". Could I kill? The answer was unequivocally 'yes' now. I was a killer.

I looked up to uncle Jason and realized that I hadn't even noticed my vision blurring or the tears falling, his power had blurred the surroundings enough that it hadn't been obvious. Wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand I asked "Did Echolocate make it?" My voice came out as a pitiful desperate squeak. Please. Echolocate had to make it. There had to have been some good out of this.

With my vision cleared, I noticed that uncle Jason's countenance had softened considerably. "Yeah Guera, she made it." He said, closing the distance between us and putting a hand on my shoulder. "Still recovering, but she's alive."

I nodded and wiped at my eyes again. After taking several moments and a few deep breaths, I shakily asked "So, um. What now?"

"Well, the PRT wants a statement. A record of what happened now will keep you from any future legal ramifications." His eyes took on a harder cast again as he removed his hand from my shoulder to get a better look at me. "Lily, did Voltaic say anything about where he was going? Who he was working with? What the hell he was even doing out there?" He asked, his voice growing louder by the end. I could see the frustration on his face.

"Uh, no? He just threatened me and said that I was more useful alive than dead." I responded, my worry rising with his frustration. "Why?"

His jaw tightened before he answered, "because this wasn't a lone incident. The whole city was effectively under attack and we had half of our wards out on a training exercise with Boston. There were at least a dozen villains out there causing havoc and nobody is sure why. Even worse, we didn't even know most of these guys were friendly with each other." He exhaled loudly before continuing, "but that's not for you to worry about. We need to get you home to your father. Lets go take that statement."

My father. Crap. The city was a warzone, and I had been missing for the last several hours. He was going to be worried sick. Oh man that wouldn't be a good setup to tell him I'm a cape and could he please sign these papers?

Uncle Jason had just donned his cowl and looked like he was preparing his staff to return us to the real world when I stopped him. "Wait!" I said. "Have you talked to dad yet? What'd you tell him?"

Smiling with a half-grin on his face, he responded "I told him the truth."

Just as I blanched, he chuckled and continued "You got caught in a fight between two capes and managed to get out with only a burn on your leg. I also told him you would call him."

"Thanks. I will," I said. He finished his flourish and the noise of the world came crashing back in. I could tell that more than a few people were startled by our sudden...whatever it was we had done. Had we disappeared from the world, or had we only become hazy to them like they had to me? What about the floor we had been standing on? Right now, it wasn't important.

A small part of my mind was hoping for another chance to fly with the great and powerful wizard Myrddin. There really was nothing like it. Unfortunately, he led me to a marked PRT vehicle and got into the drivers seat. I must say, if I had ever pictured Myrddin driving a vehicle, it would have certainly been a chariot or simply riding a horse. I never envisioned him behind the wheel of a modern automobile. I couldn't help but start to giggle.

"Well." He said with only a smirk, "glad you're feeling better."

As he put the car into drive, I unbagged my phone. As it connected to the local cell tower missed call notifications and text messages began to pop up from my father. My heart ached with what I must've put him through. I guess I needed to keep it in an actual pocket so that it could stay connected to the network. Holding up the phone to uncle Myrddin to indicate what I was doing, I called my father.

[][][][][]

After uncle Myrddin had taken me to the PRT building again to give my statement about what had transpired we took one of several tunnels with a tram. After that, although Myrddin and 'Grab-Bag' entered the PRT building, Lily and her uncle Jason inconspicuously exited a gym and took the bus back to our apartment building. As the elevator doors opened to my floor, I spontaneously gave uncle Jason a hug. "Thanks. For everything."

He just rustled me hair. "Of course Guera," he said with a smile.

I exited the elevator and made my way to our door, but I stopped before opening it and took a deep breath. Even before I saw him, I knew that I wouldn't talk to dad tonight. I needed to, but the part of me that thought I had been through enough for one day won out. That, and the conversation just promised to be unpleasant for me. I could barely even think about laying all of that on my father, but I had to do it if I wanted to become a hero.

Turning the knob, I entered our living room. Despite having to use his hands to control his wheels to do so, he still managed to spin around from his desk and rush over to me for a hug. "Oh thank God you're alright," he said, "I was worried sick about you." I leaned down and wrapped my arms around him to return the embrace. "Don't do that to me honey. Please, I need you here. I need you with me."

"I know dad." I conceded, "I'll try to be more careful. I'm sorry."

"It's okay honey. I'm just glad you're alright." He said, stroking my hair. Finally he pulled away and wheeled himself into the next room to picked up his cell phone. "Why didn't you answer your phone? I tried calling you."

"Oh, uh, I think it was still on silent for school, and everything was happening so fast and I just forgot to even look at it until I called you." I answered.

He nodded his understanding. "Well, like I said, I'm just glad you're alright. How about I order us some pizza. I think we've both had enough stress today that neither of us needs to be cooking!" I could tell he was fighting to stay above the cold black waters of desperation that sometimes took him. I went to him and gave him another hug, doing my best to help him fight back the darkness.

Well, pizza sounded great after the day I had, and so dad called Tiny Tony's and we didn't even have to go and pick it up. While we were waiting on the pizza I went and got changed in my room. I unbagged the shirt, hoodie, and pants that had made up my costume into the hamper, then changed into a clean set of pajamas (giant T-shirt and fuzzy pants). Thinking about what I had in my grab-bag (No way I was going by that for my hero name, but I was certainly willing to call my extradimensional space that), I resolved to come equipped with more choices in the future. Basically my only power was being prepared, so the least I could do is to accommodate it. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot in my room that I wanted. Could I use Tools? Yes. Weapons? Sure. Protective gear? The best you've got. Hair ties or a giant stuffed rabbit? Probably not.

When the pizza arrived, my father's nerves had finally started to settle, and so had mine. I could actually enjoy the time watching a silly sitcom with him instead of mentally and physically biting my fingernails to the quick. That evening, I discovered that there's nothing quite like a life-and-death experience to give you an appreciation for the mundane joys you can have in life.


	6. Chapter 1:6

I was stupid for thinking that I would be able to sleep. I'd like to say it was the throbbing pain of the burn on my right hip and leg, but that honestly probably made me feel better. There was a punishment for killing somebody, or at least something I could point to to say "this is why I had to do what I did." Lacking any of the distractions pizza or television or even just hanging out with my father provided, my mind was free to dwell on my day and the fact that I was a killer.

I can't say for sure whether I had slept fitfully or not at all, but by two in the morning I decided that I had had enough staring at my ceiling for a night, and so I rose, intent on possibly burning off some of my energy. If I could force my body to sleep from sheer exhaustion, then at least I could sleep. Maybe these dark thoughts would leave my conscious mind alone in the light of day...if I could just get through the night.

Padding softly on the carpet of my bedroom, I slowly turned the doorknob until it was unlatched, and then creaked my door open. I started into my hallway when I heard a soft whimpering that stopped me in my tracks. I knew immediately that my father was plagued by his own dark thoughts. I could hear the soft sounds of a man weeping into his own pillow. Since the Simurgh and especially since my mother had been taken away, he was damaged goods. Most of the time he could pull himself together and face the world, but when something unexpected or stressful happened, especially something personal, he could spiral into some pretty dark mindsets and tendencies.

The worst that I could remember had been almost two years ago. The Simurgh had attacked a city in Wisconsin that was only two hours away, and I think something about the news footage he saw, or maybe her relative proximity had sent him into a fit that had lasted days. He wouldn't work; he wouldn't eat; He would barely shuffle himself to the restroom. Mostly, he sat on his bed, rocking back and fourth mumbling "No, not her. Not her." I had done what I could, but uncle Jason and aunt Rita had called a D.D.I.D. therapist that specialized in nervous episodes triggered by the Simurgh's influence and he had been hospitalized for over a week. They said the only times he would come out of his depression was when I would visit him.

I stood outside his doorway, debating on whether I should let him know I was up. I could probably go in there and calm him down, maybe even enough that he could fall asleep again...but I just didn't have it in me. My day had just been too full and hectic. I was emotionally drained and I couldn't do it. It took a toll on me every time I had to see him like that, every time I had to hold him and rub his hair like I was the parent and he was the child with a nightmare. I couldn't handle that today. Tonight, whatever.

I slowly made my way to the kitchen, still working to make as little sound as possible. Trying to do something to exhaust myself was pretty out of the question; I couldn't risk dad getting up and finding me missing. So I couldn't sneak out, but at least I could get a drink and maybe find something to relieve some of the pain of my burn. I got a glass from the cabinet and slowly filled it with water, wanting to ensure it didn't make much noise. Then, I got an ice-pack from the freezer and made my way back to my room. Although I was no longer thirsty and the ice pack mollified the worst of the pain, I laid awake for a long time more.

[][][][][]

The weekend had finally arrived. I had only two days left of school and the burns I had received the previous Tuesday had gone from fairly painful to extremely itchy, especially when I did anything to make myself sweat. Honestly, I think I preferred the pain. I had still not managed to convince myself to talk to dad about my powers, but I had resolved to do it this afternoon after I got back from the hardware store with uncle Jason, who had promised to take me there on a shopping trip to pick up tools and other supplies I had thought of that could be useful to carry around at all times.

Living in an apartment didn't really lend itself to having a large tool selection that I could pilfer from. In fact, the only tools I knew about were in a "toolbox" in name only: it was about as thin as a thick book, and its other dimensions were about the same as the screen for my dad's desktop computer. It had various tools a person might need for whatever situation like a hammer, a wrench and socket set, and probably some pliers or something. I hadn't bothered to look in there because each tool had an designated spot in the hard plastic where it fit. There was no way I could get away with bagging some of those and pretending that we just didn't have them or that they were just lost.

I was a bit surprised and more than a little touched that uncle Jason was willing to do this with his own money, but he had mentioned that once I was in the Wards he would just start siphoning off my trust to pay for it. He was kidding. I think. As we pulled into the large store's parking lot, uncle Jason pushed the lock button on the car door, presumably to make sure that I stayed and heard what he had to say. "Lily, these tools will be for getting you out of difficult situations and to help protect you if you get into trouble. If I find out that you went looking for trouble like you did on Tuesday then I'm taking them all back. Understand?"

I nodded, but then decided that a verbal affirmation was probably better. "Yeah." And I did. It made sense because I had almost died. By all rights, I probably should have died. I was lucky that making Voltaic's armor disappear had worked, I was lucky that he didn't have any under-armor, lucky that I had hit one of the few spots on a person's back that could render them unable to react. So yeah, it made sense. The Wards were supposed to stay out of dangerous situations, and they got the armor, equipment, and training to handle the dangerous situations they were supposed to be avoiding. I currently had none of that, but when I became a Ward myself his stipulations would probably be moot anyway, since he knew I couldn't very easily do anything contrary to my orders just to uphold his stipulations. "Thanks, Unk." I said.

It seemed like he was never very fond of my nickname for him (if you could even call it that), but he had never really told me to stop, so I was set on using it until he did. I didn't want to waste too much money, so I was planning on just getting the most useful of items, or items that would be somewhat useful in the most situations. The one thing I was still undecided about was a multi-tool. Sure, they had a lot of usefulness for the price, but every item on it was inferior to a full-sized version of the same item, and it's not like I was hurting for space.

Hearing the doors click to unlocked, I levered open my door and we made our way inside the hardware store. I quickly realized that Saturday morning was not a great time to go to a hardware store. At first I thought there must have been a special deal or a limited offer for how many people there were, but when I asked uncle Jason, he just said that that's how hardware stores are on Saturday, especially in the early summer.

I quickly decided against the multi-tool when I saw how comparatively affordable the tool sets like my dad had at home were. Sure, I didn't need the case, but all the tools seemed good enough that they wouldn't fall apart. Looking over my options, and what each piece seemed to cost individually, I eventually decided on one of the smaller sets, only 39 pieces. And the fact that it came in pink had absolutely nothing to do with my decision. The tool set came with a hammer, pliers, scissors, a tape measure, a nice hex-head screwdriver chassis that I could put one of several common (and some uncommon) heads onto, a box-cutter razor, a tape measure, an Alan-wrench set, and a few smaller screwdrivers that looked like they must be more for something like watches or other delicate electronics than normal screw-driving needs.

In addition to what came in the box, we bought several other things, including a handful of self-setting screws, some nails (two sizes!), a roll of stainless-steel wire, a roll of twine, an LED flashlight, a nylon rope, a cigarette lighter, a ratchet and socket set, and several steel ball-bearings. Most of the stuff was pulling from a general idea of "be prepared." Even though I was trying not to buy larger ticket items, the shopping trip still ended up costing more than I thought it would, and I was getting ready to put some of it back when uncle Jason quieted my protests and stoically paid for it with a credit card.

When we were back in the car I wanted to go right to absorbing all my spoils-of-war (if you would have been in that store, you would have called it war too), but he insisted we wait until we get inside somewhere private so that we could be sure that nobody would notice. Even though it was the sensible thing to do, I still made faces at him for it for half the trip home. He deserved it.

[][][][][]

 _Well, what do you think of Lily getting geared up? Anything she needs that I left out? Let me know how I'm doing in a review!_


	7. Chapter 1:7

The trip to the hardware store had been fun and somewhat informative, but I was really looking forward to actually being a Ward tonight. I just had to muster up the strength to talk to dad. I had absorbed all the tools we had bought individually and then, upon realizing that I had a thin plastic case that had been masquerading as a toolbox that I wasn't sure what to do with, I decided to bag that too. I could recall each thing I had in my inventory without any difficulty, so I was pretty sure it was a part of my power to be able to form a sort of mental list of what I had in there. That was a good thing, because without that ability, it would be getting a bit cluttered. The last thing I needed was to absorb something large and then forget what I had absorbed, effectively lowering my capacity until I could remember.

Not that my capacity was really much reduced. In fact, although I knew from a rather painful experience that I couldn't bag a car (which hadn't surprised me at the time), I was pretty sure that it wasn't a limitation of my capacity, just one of my...absorption? Sure, lets go with absorption. I had tried bagging my giant stuffed rabbit the night before. It was probably at least as large as I was (I was taller, it was a fair amount more wide), but not nearly as heavy, and it wasn't too much of a problem. I was beginning to suspect that the limit of what I could bag was based on its mass more than its volume. I could probably bag car-shaped styrofoam all day, but actual cars were a different story altogether.

As I left the elevator, I turned to watch its doors close on uncle Jason as it took him the remaining two flights to his home. I trudged the hallway to my father's and my apartment. I just had to remember the prize. I would be in the Wards in a few hours, as long as I could have a simple talk with dad. I stood out side our door, hesitating to open it. It wasn't that I didn't want him knowing, per se, it was simply that I didn't think he would take it very well. I didn't want him worrying about me. He had only just recovered from my escapade on Tuesday; I didn't want to give him another reason to succumb to the darkness.

I heard a door unlocking from the inside down the hallway, and quickly snatched my key out of my pocket. I certainly didn't want a neighbor wondering why I was standing out in the hallway staring at our door. Turning the key in the lock, I pushed into the apartment.

Inside, the living room and kitchen were dark with the only muted light coming in between the shades from the window. That was a bad sign. Hopefully he wasn't in a bad mood already. "Dad?" I said tentatively. If he were all the way back in his room he almost certainly wouldn't have heard me.

"Honey, you're back!" he called from just around the wall to the kitchen. His voice sounded like he was forcing as much cheer into it as he could muster. Okay, another bad sign. At least the fact that he was around and talking meant that he wasn't in terrible shape. Wheeling himself from the kitchen, he came to give me a hug. I saw that his eyes were swollen and red, but I returned the hug gratefully.

"Hey dad." I said, "How was your day?"

"Oh, you know." He said, forcing a smile to his face. "I was trying to find something that I could make for dinner, but I couldn't find anything. I'm sorry honey. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to make dinner for you. Wanted to make you something you'd enjoy and I'm just so...useless."

I started to respond, not really sure what exactly I was going to say, "Dad..."

He began to weep, fat tears sliding down his face. "I'm sorry. I know you don't deserve this. I'm sorry."

"Hey, how about we make dinner together?" I said, the idea just coming to me. It was a way to spend some time monitoring how he was feeling while maybe cheering him up. Also, at some point we needed to make some dinner. When he nodded his acknowledgement, I made my way into the kitchen. I said, "You're not useless, dad. Just because you need me to reach the top shelf doesn't make you useless." The joke didn't really get a chuckle.

Looking through the pantry and the fridge, I quickly realized what part of the problem was. We really needed to do some grocery shopping. The only meat left in the house was a half-eaten box of fish-sticks in the freezer, and all our fresh vegetables had either been eaten or had already wilted. Fortunately, we had an array of canned beans to choose from instead for protein, and a few cans of various veggies, and so I put a pan onto the oven's spiral burner and surveyed my options. "Hey dad," I began, putting some false cheer into my voice. If I could pretend that all was well, then sometimes if he could bring himself to forget about the problems and our pretending would become reality. "Wanna' get me some beans and some rice? And can you open the can of beans, please?"

He was slow to wheel himself into the kitchen, but he complied with my requests, working silently. As he did that, I filled a pot with hot water and set it on another burner to boil. The idea for the concoction I was preparing to make cementing in my mind (hopefully it was any good), I continued "Oh, and you could open some peas and some corn, too." By then I heard the whirring and grinding noises of our can-opener, and shortly he had handed me a can of beans, which I then unceremoniously dumped into the waiting saucepan.

"Oh, now you tell me about the peas and corn. You could have told me while I was already rooting through the pantry, but no! You wait until I'm done over there just to cause your poor ol' dad more pain and hardship." Snark? Snark was a good sign. Surprised, I glanced toward him and he allowed a small smile to touch his lips. There he was. He made his way back to the pantry, grumbling playfully all the way, and rooted around for more cans.

As we made dinner, we discussed trivial things and just passed the time in conversation, enjoying one another's company. I could still see the pain or sorrow or whatever it was lurking underneath, but today he was able to suppress it enough to let me have my dad. When the rice was done, I dished up heaping servings for both of us, and we made our way to the table to eat.

Sitting down, I took a solitary bite before mustering the courage to say what was on my mind. "So dad..." I began, but as he looked up from his plate I immediately aborted. "Uh, how do you like dinner?"

He raised his eyebrows, obviously not fully convinced. Fortunately, he was willing to play along. "Well. It's pretty good I guess." He hedged, unwilling to commit to a single answer.

Snorting, I nodded "Yeah, I think it needs cheese, too." And it really did. I bounced out of my chair to the refrigerator and retrieved a half-empty bag of shredded marble cheddar. Once I added the cheese, it was pretty edible. Certainly not the best thing I had ever made, but edible.

After the cheese, another minute passed in silence as we ate. Ugh, why did I have to ask permission? Okay, I just needed to say it. Rip it off like a band-aid. Okay, I was going to do it. I took a deep breath...and exhaled. After closing my eyes for a moment, I was just getting ready to open my mouth when I was interrupted.

"Whachya' thinkin' 'bout, honey?" Dad asked. "There's obviously something on your mind."

Well crap. Now I had to say it. This was the time. "Well, dad. There's something that I've been wanting to tell you, but I could never find the right time. So I want to tell you now, but I don't want you to get worried or anything about it." I said, staring at my half-eaten food. I almost brought up uncle Jason being Myrddin. Almost. But then I realized that it was his secret to tell, not mine. So great, now I didn't even get to reassure dad that I would have somebody looking out for me. Looking up, I could see the tension building behind his eyes. I had to tell him now. Not telling him would just get him more worked up before I did.

"Dad, I'm a cape. I have powers." I finally expelled. I watched him, and he was just sitting there. Looking at me. Finally raising my hand, I made a screwdriver appear resting on my palm.

Dad began to quiver and the tears came back full force, streaming down his eyes. "No. No, no no no no. Honey, no. Please." He begged. "It can't be. You can't have powers. Don't, please."

What? I was dumbstruck. This was an even more severe and sudden reaction than I was expecting. He continued his babbling "Please no. She...you...she can't have powers. Don't do this! Please don't do this! You can't do this to me!" His voice was escalating sharply, so that by the end of all of this he was almost yelling.

I grabbed his shoulders. If he was yelling like this the neighbors could hear. If they complained to the right people and he didn't settle down, the PRT could come for Simurgh quarantine measures. "Shh! Dad, you gotta' be quiet!" I said, holding onto his shoulders and forcing him to look at me. When he continued, I spoke a bit louder, trying to snap him out of it. "Dad!"

Finally he quieted, although the occasional whimper still escaped as he rocked himself back and fourth in his wheelchair. "Okay dad," I said, "What's wrong with me having powers?"

Still rocking, his head rose until he could meet my eyes. "Don't use them. You can't use your powers, honey. You can't! You know what She does."

A dawning horror began to tighten my gut and make my heart suddenly thud in my chest. "She? Dad. Why would She have anything to do with me? I wasn't in London, remember?" I asked, already fearing the answer.

With a quivering breath, he began to explain. "When they made us do our counseling we told them at first. They were going to take you away from us and we realized we had already told them too much and there was nothing we could do! But then, all four of our counselors died when the temporary holding building went up in flames, and their notes went with them! They never told anyone, and so we had a second chance! Your mother and I, we couldn't let them take you away from us. So we made up a few things so that we could keep you."

No. I wasn't even sure what was happening, but I knew I didn't want to hear. Almost, I fled. Maybe to uncle Jason, maybe to my room. Whatever it was I didn't want to hear it. Instead, somehow an insubordinate minority seemed to take control of my mouth and ask "Dad, what do you mean? What did you make up to keep me?"

"Honey. We just love you so much, and we knew you would never do anything bad. The S...that...that flying bitch screams and makes you see things. Visions. The experts say that's how she controls people. Those visions. We didn't want them to take you away, so we couldn't tell them, don't you see? You're mother and I had to lie to them! We couldn't tell them that the only visions she made either of us see were visions of you."


	8. Chapter 1:8

What? My mind refused to even process the information. It was like my train of thought had slammed into a wall and shattered, and all that was left was a stuttering wreck looping endlessly over that one idea. Was I Simurgh tainted? The idea was ridiculous. I'd never even seen the Simurgh, much less heard the mental scream they say she projects when she's altering people's minds to become her own ticking time bombs.

Dad was looking to me pleadingly for understanding, his eyes searching my face. No. I couldn't handle this right now. I couldn't. I retreated into the depths of my own mind. I averted my eyes, looking to the picture my grandmother had painted hanging on the dining room wall. Looking anywhere but into his entreating stare. I just had to think. I had to understand and I couldn't do anything with him here staring at me like this. It was almost like there was too much thinking to do and no place to begin the thinking, and so my mind just became overwhelmed with the sheer scale of what I was dealing with instead of doing anything useful.

Okay, I could do this. I had read Oedipus Rex just a month before in Lit class and my mind finally found a starting point there. The Simurgh was my sphinx and her song was my prophecy. Actually, what the ancient Greeks thought about prophecy was a very good analogue to what the Simurgh does. There was no way to avoid the prophecy for them, and there's not a way to avoid the bad things the Simurgh would make people do.

If I was her time bomb and decided I'd never use my powers, somehow I would be coerced or badgered or bullied into using them. The point was moot. I could never not use this gift to help people, but it was of some comfort that even if I did manage to ignore my ability, it would all fit right into her plans. If I used my powers, then at least I could maybe help people enough to make the good outweigh the bad. Or at least counterbalance the bad. Or offset it maybe a little. Hopefully.

And besides, it was unlikely that her influence would have even made it to me right now. I couldn't think of any recent incidents, shootings or riots or heroes-gone-villain, that had been due to any of the early Simurgh attacks. Mostly, it seemed like her influence tapered out over the course of five or six years. Surely if I was going to do something, I would have done it by now. If I was damned if I did and damned if I didn't, then all I could do was my best, and my best is to help people. I was still going to become a hero.

It was unclear to me how long I had been staring at one of the pine trees in my grandmother's painting, but it was almost like I snapped awake from a dream, sitting in the quasi-dining room of our small apartment. The sounds of my father softly sobbing finally reached my ears, and I could hear him still quietly pleading, to whom I was unsure. My body felt winded. Like I had exerted myself and I was just now coming down off of the exhaustion.

Finally, I met my father's eyes again. "Dad." I started, "I still have to become a hero. This can't change anything I was going to do. I'll just have to be more careful, and being in the Wards will help with that. I'll be accountable." As I said it I looked into his eyes, trying to will him into agreeing with me. My efforts to be a hero would be exceedingly more difficult if I couldn't get dad to sign any papers.

Sniffling, he nodded. "Yeah, I understand." He said. A part of my heart went ice-cold at that. It didn't even take an argument? Was this playing right into Her hands? I hated her just a bit more right then, realizing that this was now my life. Everything I did, everything I accomplished I would question, looking for Her influence.

"I know you." He continued, snapping me out of my own head. "I can't stop you from trying to help people. That's one of the things I love about you. At least in the Wards you'll be safe. I need you to be safe."

My safety. I knew that he was feeling however many nights filled with tears instead of sleep he would have to experience because of this. In a sense, it felt nice that he cared so deeply for me, but in another it was almost like he wasn't getting the big picture. Oh. No. His sleepless nights. They were because of me. And Her. It was because of me because of her. Suddenly, ice gripped my heart. I heard my own breath hike as the realization slammed into my mind. His love. For me. Was because of Her. All my good memories. All my happy family moments. My mother's goodnight lullabies. They were Hers.

Who knows what my parents would have actually felt about me. Maybe they would have been great and loving parents. But maybe not. Whatever there was before was obliterated. When the Simurgh hit London it was only her second attack. I don't know how long she was there, but I knew that it wasn't a short time. They still didn't know how to fight her, the Protectorate didn't really know her tricks yet. They didn't have the quarantine procedures then that they had now. Heck, they barely even knew anything about her Rube-Goldberg machinations back then. Who knows how long she had had to scramble my parent's thinking?

My head was shaking of its own accord at the realization and I could feel myself hyperventilating. I had to get away. I couldn't look at him right now. When I looked into his eyes, all I could see was Her pulling his strings. I bolted from my chair. I had to get out. I couldn't think of anything else except my need to get away from everything that was happening here. Scrambling to unlock the door, I could hear my father rousing behind me, trying to get me to stop, trying to trap me and I just had to get away. I flung the door open and all-but sprinted down the hallway to the elevator. As the twin doors were sliding closed, I could hear his voice rising, entreating me to stay and talk to him.

As I arrived on the ground-floor lobby area, my vision was blurry but I was still able to power-walk to the outside doors, arms wrapped protectively around myself. Twilight was just setting in and bringing the heat of the day down to something that would have been called a beautiful night on any other night. Tonight, it was just the back-drop behind my entire world crumbling to pieces.

I don't even know which direction I walked or how long it took me to stop, but eventually I found myself sitting against a rough brick wall in an alcove where the yellow glow from the streetlights couldn't reach me. The burn on my leg itched fiercely from the running and sweating I had been doing, and my stomach ached from my wracking sobs. I didn't care. I don't even know that I was thinking about anything. What was there to think about? As soon as my mind would begin to attempt to piece together my thoughts it would flinch back from the anguish any amount of thinking brought. I didn't want to think. Thinking made it hurt more.

I sat in that alcove for a long time, wracked with pain and tears. Just shy of two weeks ago I had experienced real panic for the first time in my life. I hadn't told my father about it to protect him, but today was worse. A hundred times worse. Today I experienced hopelessness. Helplessness. There was no possible action I could take to make this problem go away. There wasn't a power in the world that could fix my problems like one had two weeks ago. I had no idea how I could face him again. For the first time in my life I was glad my mother had been taken away from us. At least I didn't have to stare into her eyes and see the Simurgh staring back at me.

I sighed. A heavy, shuddering breath that escaped my lungs but didn't take any of my problems with it. I couldn't even hate him though. He was at the center of the largest betrayal of my life, but it wasn't his fault. He was still my dad, and he still loved me. That love may have been twisted or even wholly manufactured by the Simurgh, but it wasn't his fault. He still cared so deeply for me that it drove him mad sometimes. How could I live like that though? Every time I looked at him I would see betrayal. Ugh. There was no answer.

Eventually, it was simple stupid human nature that got to me. It was fully dark out, and when I checked my phone (ignoring the missed calls and text messages) I saw that it was already past ten. My day had been full, and crying and all of my emotional responses had drained me. I was exhausted. I didn't know what I would do tomorrow or even tonight if I had to face dad again, but my butt was sore, my leg itched, and I had to pee. With ideas of sneaking back into the apartment, I rose from my sitting position, and walked out into the orange light provided by the lamp overhead.

Great. I had no idea where I was. I was pretty sure of the direction I had come from, so I started walking, but the neighborhood looked a bit rough and I was hoping I hadn't made too many twists and turns to get myself lost. Checking my surroundings, I could tell that the buildings looked neglected and some even outright deserted. Hopefully the lone figure across the street didn't want any trouble. The silhouette's only distinct feature was a spot of orange from the glow of a cigarette. Hunched over, I quickly made my way toward the next block.

After several blocks I consigned myself to using the GPS on my phone: something I should have done from the beginning, because apparently I was walking the wrong direction. Fortunately, when I started following its instructions, I quickly came into a part of town that was better-lit and (even more exciting) that I recognized. I knew I was too far from home and that my need was too strong, so I stopped into a relatively decent looking gas station to use the restroom. My mind must have been exhausted. The waitress behind the bar, the two men sitting at the bar enjoying a late dinner, the pimple-faced employee that looked younger than I was, everyone seemed more like threats than bystanders. I could see Her influence everywhere. After finishing my business, I rushed out.

Eventually, I rounded the corner to get to the front door of my apartment and stopped dead in my tracks. There were flashing lights, brightly illuminating the street and buildings with contrasts of blue and red. Several vehicles, all bearing the flashing lights, were parked haphazardly outside the front of my building. Our building. There were probably a hundred people that lived in that building, but in that instant I knew which one they were here for. Something had happened to dad.

[][][][][]

 _Unfortunately, this week is looking like I'll be really busy for most of it, so I don't know when I'll get my next update out. Sorry to leave it on a bit of a cliffhanger, but it will almost certainly be before the end of next week before my next update comes out._

 _Additionally, I went back through my previous chapters and did some much-needed editing. I couldn't believe how many mistakes I caught, so I'm sorry about those. Hopefully they'll be easier to read now, and hopefully I'll be more diligent in the future._


	9. Chapter 1:9

_I'm finally back! Sorry about the delay, it was quite the busy week, but thanks for your patience! Anyway, I went back and added a few words and a handful of sentences to last chapter to make it flow better, and added a tiny bit of content to the last two paragraphs. Thanks for reading!_

[][][][][]

"Why won't you do anything?!" I pleaded, throwing all the rage and impotence and hatred I was feeling into my phone. I watched through the blur of tears as the blue and red lights disappeared around a corner. I had seen them carting my father away as he tried to buck the restraints attaching him to his reinforced gurney and struggling against a PRT agent that would have fit into an offensive line. They had rolled him up into a vehicle whose design had borrowed strongly from both an armored car and an ambulance.

"Lily. Hey. I don't know what you expect me to do..." uncle Jason began. I didn't let him finish. I slammed my thumb into the large red icon to hang up the phone and just barely managed to restrain myself from throwing my phone against the wall in hatred. I wanted to scream. I wanted someone to shout at.

In the final moments before they had pushed him into his mobile cage, my father's eyes had caught mine. I was standing a short ways behind the string of gawkers. I had seen the shifts of emotions on his face: from anger and hopelessness sprang joy and excitement when he saw me. Then he had just enough time to take in my posture, my decision to be indecisive, and I had just enough time to see the betrayal and hurt wash over him before he was enshrouded by the vehicle he was to be taken away in.

As soon as the cars began to pull away and any hope of my interfering had been banished, it was as if a switch had flipped in my mind. My indecisiveness had worn off immediately as soon as there was no longer a decision to make. I had wanted to stop them. To get my father back. I even took a few steps toward the quickly retreating vehicles before crumpling with the knowledge that I would never catch them. So I had wrestled my phone from my pocket and called the only person who could maybe change things and undo what I had just done to myself. It was easier to hate him. Easier to scream at him. Afterall, I couldn't scream at myself.

The gawkers had turned to look at me. I hated them, at that moment. Any one of them could have interfered. They could have tried to stop it, but instead they just stood there, doing nothing. Watching as if it were a television drama instead of the life of a real girl that was standing right behind them. I had been worse than they. I turned to flee the way I had approached, not willing to bear their stares any longer.

[][][][][]

I didn't make it far before remembering the realities that had sent me home in the first place. Turning back after only a block, I decided to not embarrass myself and use the same front doors I had just left. I possessed a general access key to the apartment building that I could use from the meager parking garage attached to it. I had only had to use the key a handful of times, so in this instance I was glad that I had continued carrying it on my keychain.

The door from the garage opened immediately in front of the elevator, so I was able to ascend without being seen. I had to stop when I made it to the apartment door. There was police tape with "Simurgh Quarantine Area" printed everywhere on it. I would either have to army-crawl into my own apartment once I got the door open, or tear down the tape.

Looking up and down the hallway, I unlocked my door, then dropped to my knees, and finally to my belly. I crawled through my own doorway and moved up to a kneeling position to close it, attempting to be as quiet as possible. Standing, I turned around. The living room was completely trashed. I was unsure if it was due to the same reason the PRT ended up being called, or in a struggle when they had finally arrived. Probably both.

I made my way to the couch and collapsed onto it, exhausted both physically and mentally. Looking around the apartment from my chosen vantage point, I realized that this apartment, my safe haven since childhood, could never be my home again. It felt sullied by the things I had learned here. The dining room just to my left was ground zero for my misery.

The longer I sat and looked at it, the more uncomfortable with the space I became. I stared at the chair my father had been sitting in, the conversation playing back through my mind. The tape on the outside of the door was right. This was Her space now.

Struggling to my feet, I made my way through the hallway to my room. Before I fully realized what I was doing, I had thrown open my closet and had begun absorbing my entire wardrobe. I was moving out.

Absorbing every piece of clothing I had took surprisingly little time. It was mostly a matter of thrusting my hand into my closet or a dresser drawer and moving it laterally until I had (however briefly) touched each piece. I was finished in under a minute. From there I cleared out my jewelry box, then decided to bag the box, too. I didn't usually wear much makeup, but I had some. I bagged all of it, and while I was in the restroom I grabbed my toothbrush, toothpaste, my hairbrush, and all the toiletries I had, including soap and shampoo. On my way out of my bedroom, I stopped briefly to bag my meager stuffed animal collection.

With all that bagged, I went back to my door, intent on retreating from this place that I had once called home. With my hand on the doorknob I stopped. If I was leaving like this...I would have to take care of myself. I was on my own. If I just took a little more time, I could be more prepared. I could take much better care of myself. Removing my hand from the knob, I walked back to the hallway, stopping before I made it to my room outside the spare "bedroom" that we mostly used for storage.

I flung the boxes with all our winter gear open. Coats, scarves, gloves, and hats disappeared to my touch, even ones that didn't fit me. I tried my best to ignore the photo albums, although they tore at my heart every time I glanced at them. Finding Christmas supplies I bagged bells and ornaments, not even certain why but knowing that they could possibly be useful.

After grabbing most of the I wanted stuff from storage, I decided to raid the pantry next, figuring food would never be a bad idea. As I made my way back to the front of the apartment, I heard a voice outside the door. It sounded like a woman's voice. She must've been speaking on the phone, because I didn't hear anybody else. It stopped me dead in my tracks. The acoustics were such that I could clearly hear that she was talking, but it was very difficult to make out words. Slowly, I crept to the front door to make use of the peep-hole.

As I approached the door, her words became slightly easier to discern. Placing a hand on either side of the door, I looked out into the hallway in front of my room. Far off to the right side of my field of view I could just make out a woman talking on a phone, her side to the door as if she was looking in the direction of the elevators.

"...that there was no overlap time. I should have been here before you guys left." She berated the person on the other end before stopping to listen. She seemed fit, almost like a personal trainer more than somebody that just uses their body's muscles a lot. She had a ballcap on with a ponytail coming out the hole in the back, and I couldn't see the insignia on her clothes from this angle, but by now I was certain she was PRT.

I hadn't realized it before, but them taking away my father had left a bad taste in my mouth. The idea of going with the PRT and...what? Being an orphan? They would probably force some unlucky agent to take me in just so that they could have another member in their precious Wards team. The system had failed me. I couldn't believe that just earlier today I had wanted to become part of it.

Was this the touch of the Simurgh?

"Well that's just great Misha. One of these days that'll bite you in the ass." She responded to the person on the other line, snapping me out of my ruminating and focusing me on a new problem. I was stuck.

My nerves were already frayed. I had taken the extra time to prepare myself, but I was aching to leave the echoes of the horrible memories my former home brought. But now I couldn't leave.

"Well, I'll be here when he does. Have him bring me something to eat, I haven't had anything since that salad."

Crap crap crap. Okay, I just had to figure out a way to leave. Maybe I...

"Naa, I don't care. As long as it's not that fried stuff he tried to get me to eat last time."

Well, okay it looked like her conversation was ending. Was she going to come in after that, or stay out in the hallway?

"Okay, see ya...Bye." She finished, hanging up her phone and slipping it into her left pocket. She looked up and down the hallway before visibly sighing and leaning against the wall, immediately retrieving her phone from the same pocket she had just stuffed it into.

Okay good, at least she wasn't coming in. I crept away from the door, mindful to try to keep the floor from creaking. On thinking a moment, I bagged my socks to get my feet in contact with my shoes. Then, lifting one foot up, I made the shoe disappear and the sock reappear on it, and the repeated then same procedure for the other foot. Finally I treaded softly to the pantry, trying to ignore the spot at the kitchen table that my world had collapsed.

Cracking it open, it was the work of moments to absorb everything from the four shelves into my grab-bag. I decided I would take the tools we had as well, even though they would just be redundant copies. Who knows, maybe I would need two pliers for something. I made a quick pit-stop into the kitchen to bag a few more kitchen knives, as well as some pots, pans, cups, plates, bowls, and a handful of utensils. And a can-opener. All this canned food would be pretty worthless without a can-opener.

Now what? I soft-footed it back to the peep-hole. Yep, she was still out there. Messing around on her phone. After a few moments of indecision, I had another idea. I crept back into the hallway and grabbed our spare blankets and sheets, and a few clean towels. Then, I walked back into my bedroom, absentmindedly tapping my pillow to bag it. I had never successfully bagged something as large as a mattress, so I was a little leery of the headache that had accompanied my attempts to overexert my power with an entire vehicle. With a hand on the mattress, I felt fairly confident I could do it.

With barely a thought the mattress disappeared. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. It felt ridiculous. I had dealt with things infinitely worse than a headache today...but at least I could theoretically control whether or not I gave myself a headache, I guess. I quickly bagged the box springs and the bedframe as well.

Stalking back toward the front of the apartment I could feel anxiety building. I had finished anything and everything I might want to do in this apartment and I wanted out. I was no closer to being able to leave than when Mrs. PRT Agent had arrived. Even worse, by the sound of it this apartment might be on permanent watch from now on. If I had to stay in here all night...I couldn't. I couldn't stay in here all night. Already I could feel my heart rate increasing and my breaths becoming short and fast.

Her phone rang. It was some stupid pop song that she was about fifteen years off from the target audience.

"Reaves." She answered.

I waited with baited breath. Was this my chance?

"What?!" She exlaimed, turning to look at me. I shied away before realizing she almost certainly couldn't see me. No, she was just looking at the door. "How could she already be here?"

Of course. Somehow they knew I was here. She had been waiting for me, and now she knew I was here.

"Okay, well go get the manager to get me a key for this apartment. She might be in there already."

Oh no. Not only did I have to get out of here for my own sanity, now I had to do it immediately or be hauled in either for Simurgh quarantine procedures, or be put up for adoption. Maybe both.

Our lovely agent Reaves knocked on the door. "Lily? Are you there?"


	10. Chapter 1:10

My eyes darted around the room, looking for an answer. I could go out the sliding door onto the balcony...but there was nowhere to go from there unless I wanted to drop the eight stories to my death. All the other windows carried the same problem. I could try to hide under something? Hiding under a bed was pretty cliche and I doubted it really worked very well. If I was found there I would just feel foolish. I could try to run or fight, but I was doubtful whether I would succeed without using my powers. Or a weapon. No, no way I was going to hurt a woman just for doing her job if I could help it. I couldn't just put up the t-shirt mask I had been using because although it would hide my face, my identity wasn't in question here. In theory the PRT knew my identity already, but it wasn't like every employee or contractor they hired would be briefed on it, and I didn't want it any more widely known than it already was.

I had been so stupid, unmasking to Director McCurdy when I did. I hadn't even gotten to be a Ward and now the PRT probably had a file somewhere with my name and my relationship with Myrddin and my powers. Why hadn't I been more careful? Well, there was plenty of time to beat myself up later, when I wasn't about to get captured and forced into a life I probably didn't want. I refocused my mind on the problem at hand.

Part of the problem was that if I tried to hide, and failed, it would be obvious I was trying to hide. That would bring up more questions that would pretty much guarantee a worse time if I did get taken in. Whichever the case, I was certainly not going to answer that door.

I stood stalk-still for several seconds, debating my options in my head. Finally, I rushed as quietly as I could to the closet that contained our heating/air conditioning unit. I couldn't remember with certainty how much room was in there or if there was a way for me to crawl up into something up there and be inconspicuous. Swinging the door open, my hopes began to plummet. It was very tightly packed, and there really wasn't anything I could climb up, over, or into. Maybe if I was six, but certainly not now. I closed the door.

What else? A person might be able to fit into the fridge if it were empty...I congratulated my brain on thinking outside the box, but that was no solution. I was pretty sure it was both dangerous and probably wouldn't work. In the oven? Underneath the sink? Okay, under the kitchen sink was an idea I could try. Like kitchen sinks everywhere, there was a cupboard beneath it to hide the plumbing while giving a person easy access to it if they needed to work on it. Life families everywhere, we stored cleaning supplies down there. I opened the cupboard and bagged everything inside.

I got my legs in no problem, but that's where I ran into trouble. The cross-beam between the two doors was making it very difficult to crumple my body into the space, and that wasn't my only issue. If I could somehow contort my torso past the cross-beam, the plumbing and garbage disposal was still in the dead center of my working area. I sighed in frustration. There was no way I was getting in there and getting the doors closed behind me.

As I began extracting myself from the progress I had mad under the sink, I could hear voices again. This time, it wasn't just Agent Reaves, I could hear two more: another female's voice, and a deeper male's voice. Crap, I was out of time. I flung the sink cupboard doors closed hoping they were too involved in their conversation and didn't hear the ruckus I had stirred up. Coming around the wall to see my living room once again, I finally hurried over to the balcony door. I couldn't think of anything to do but I certainly didn't want to stay here and be caught by the same people that had stolen my father away from me.

I slid the door open and stepped out into the humid night air. I looked around for inspiration, and was struck by a realization. I didn't necessarily have to make it eight stories down: every apartment had a small balcony just like the one I was standing on. There were four more I could see on my level, and there should be six below me. For now, all I had to do was go down a single level. I reached inside the apartment and slowly drew the vertical blinds closed as quietly as I could. I stepped between them and closed the sliding door behind me.

As I turned back to my task, a coil of nylon rope appeared in my hand. Bending down, I stuck it between one of the flat boards I was standing on and tried to thread it back up through the next slot so that I could tie it around the board. It was harder than it should have been, but eventually I got it back up and had fed enough rope through to get some slack, and that's where I ran into my next problem. I could tie my shoes, I could tie a pretty good knot for a kite string, but could I tie a knot that I trusted with my life? Instinctively, I looked over the ledge of our balcony and down to the ground far below just as a solitary car that looked the size of a toy meandered by. Until this moment, I had always loved the view from our balcony. Right then, I hated it.

Suddenly, I heard voices again. As my head whipped around I saw three people entering the apartment, conversing with one another. Agent Reaves shushed them and called out again "Lily, are you in here?" I froze like a rabbit.

I wasn't ready. Oh please don't let them come out here first. I hadn't even started on this knot that I probably couldn't tie, and I needed to go now but there was no way I was trusting my life to an untested knot and what was I going to do?! Usually, panic makes a person think less clearly, but occasionally, with panic comes a strange sense of clarity. I thought about the makeshift mask I had made from a t-shirt, and then I very nearly slapped myself in the head at my realization. I bagged the rope and then visualized a knot. It wasn't pretty, it was basically something like a double-knot, and then another double knot, and then the rope wrapped around itself several times, followed by another knot, and then the rope going under the original double knot, and on like that for a bit. Moments after visualizing it, I had it materialized just as I had imagined. Frankly, it looked like a rat's nest.

I glanced up. Only moments had passed, so they were still standing in the living room talking. I took a moment to watch as Reaves glanced into the kitchen and then made her way into the hallway toward the rest of the apartment. She said something and made hand-motions to the male PRT agent who then went back out the door. I pulled both ends of the rope to tighten the knot, and then leaned my full weight against both ends to tighten it further. Then, I threaded the rope through the slats on the guard-rail and coiled it around my right hand a few times. After giving it a few more hard tugs, I stepped over the railing.

Placing my feet into the spaces between the slats on the guard-rail, I looked to my objective: the next balcony down. I took a deep breath...and let it back out. I glanced inside to make sure they weren't coming out, then I tugged on the rope again to make sure it was secure. I crouched and re-secured my grip. Okay, I had to do this, they knew I was here and they would look until they found me. I took one foot off the balcony and let it dangle, then slowly transferred my weight from me legs to my arms. Slowly, I pulled my other foot out of its spot and dangled for a moment.

Okay, this was harder than it looked in the movies. The rope coiled around my right hand pinched and my arms were already fatiguing after only a moment supporting my weight. I placed my left hand lower than my right, and coiled the rope around it, then extracted my right hand from its own coil. Then I transferred my right hand. The balcony was right below me, it wouldn't take long to get my feet on top of its own guard rail. I could see into their living room now, and all the lights were off. Either they were asleep or not home. Either way, I was hoping that their balcony door was unlocked.

My hands felt raw and my arms burned from the exertion, but I made it to the railing of the balcony below mine. Once my feet could support my weight, I made short work of clambering down onto the safety of their balcony with the rope's help. I was breathing hard and the burn on my leg itched from the sweat that had sprang out on my skin, but I was safe! Apparently a knot that's the size of a volley-ball can reliably hold a person's weight. Who woulda' thunk?

I still had the rope in my hand and I looked up as I bagged it. The rope disappeared from my balcony leaving no evidence of my cunning escape. Man, sometimes my power was cool. Turning to the sliding door of the apartment below mine, I gently tugged the handle to see if it would open. It was locked. I tugged harder to make sure, but to no avail. Great. Now what was I going to do? I guess I could try climbing down another level, but I was certainly going to rest here a bit before I decided to do that.

I sat. The exhaustion of the night washed over me again as the adrenaline stopped pumping frantically into my system. It had felt like longer, but it probably hadn't even taken me a full minute to clamber my way down the rope to this balcony. My heavy breathing hadn't even begun to slow when I heard the sliding door above me open. My body stiffened and I froze, hoping she didn't peer too closely between the planks of wood holding her up. Fortunately, she barely stepped outside before turning back around. "Nope. I guess we'll have to actually..." she began before her closing the door cut off her words. I let out a loud breath I hadn't been aware I was holding. Good, that was taken care of.

If they knew that I was supposed to be there, I was a bit worried that their continued inability to find me would make them desperate enough to check the surrounding balconies, so before I was entirely ready, I had unbagged a knot similar and just as bedraggled looking as the last one around this balcony's floorboards and threaded it through the guard-rail planks. I was wrapping the rope around my hand again and getting ready to step over the guard-rail when I heard a voice.

"Lily. What are you doing?" Myrddin asked, hovering a few feet away.


	11. Chapter 1:11

The second hand on the clock completed another inexorable turn around its face. The time was now 1:35 AM. My eyes felt gritty instead of droopy, and my mind somehow managed to be sluggish while it raced in circles. The sanitary white tiles and florescent bulbs made the waiting room one of the most boring places I could think of. To complete the room, there was a line of uncomfortable plastic chairs and two plastic plants with absolutely no character whatsoever to break up the monotony.

I wouldn't have believed it if I had not had to sit through at least part of it. Right now they were basically deciding what sort of thing they would eventually decide and when they would decide it. Then they would decide what they were going to do with me in the meantime. They had refused to let me go back to my home to sleep. Not that I really wanted to. In my mind, it was a foregone conclusion that I would probably crash on uncle Jason's couch for a few nights until they had decided whatever it was they were going to decide.

Uncle Myrddin hadn't been happy with my trying to get away from the PRT agents. They were there to help me. I shouldn't have endangered my self like that. Bleugh. I knew on that balcony when uncle Jason had arrived that I was stuck. I couldn't run away from him. Now I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about the whole situation. I knew he still cared for me, but a seed of doubt had started to wriggle in my mind. Why couldn't he have helped me? Or even just let me go? It seemed like he cared more about following the letter of the law and making "The System" help me instead of looking at the situation and just helping me himself.

Was he keeping me at arms length? Was it possible that he was merely going through the motions of trying to get the system to help me because he felt some sense of responsibility, but he wasn't going to risk anything to help because he didn't actually care? What if he knew about the Simurgh's influence? I was pretty sure that they had come to pick up dad because he had made such a disturbance when I left, but what if dad had been so beside himself that he exposed the secret he and mom had been hiding? Was I going to be quarantined next?

Maybe that's why it was taking so long: they had to secure an area that was cordoned off and quarantined from everyone else so that her influence couldn't spread past me. I sighed heavily, glancing back up at the clock. It had continued its slow inevitable march forward while I was ruminating. These chairs really weren't very comfortable. My leg itched; my eyes felt scratchy; and my whole body ached. What was going to happen to dad? If he had to be held, could he at least get in where he could see mom? Would he disappear from my life as completely as she had?

Finally, the door opened. First out of the door was a lean blonde man. He had been introduced to me as a psychiatrist, but I couldn't remember his name anymore. Not that I was going to try terribly hard tonight. Mr. Blonde Psychiatrist held the door open as uncle Jason, Director McCurdy, and a female lawyer whose name I also couldn't recall exited the room. It was a bit unnerving how they were all looking at me, but I told myself that it probably wasn't anything bad, just my mind being paranoid.

Finally taking the initiative when it became apparent that nobody else was going to start speaking, uncle Jason said "Well, you'll be staying with me for now Lily. We can figure everything else out in the future, but Director McCurdy is happy to have you as a probationary member of the Wards until..." his voice softened as he sat down next to me, "...until I can become your legal guardian."

My stomach suddenly churned and the grittiness in my eyes quickly vanished as they were flooded with moisture. Mom and dad were my guardians. This wasn't something I really wanted to think about right now. My mind was anything but clear, and I was exhausted down to the very core of my being. That stupid blonde psychiatrist was staring at me. Probably trying to psychoanalyze me for a report that he could submit to his precious PRT for my file. And the bimbo lawyer was looking on with pity. Her face looked stupid and pathetic. I didn't want her sympathy and I certainly didn't want that freaking psychiatrist analyzing me.

Uncle Jason seemed to pick up on my distress, because he put a hand on my shoulder. I almost tried to shrug it off, but I couldn't really see the point. What good would being belligerent about it do? I wasn't getting my father back, and I certainly wasn't getting my mother out of whatever deep hole they had hidden her away and forgotten about her in. Uncle Jason spoke up again. "Hey, we can talk about this later. We're all tired, so for now, lets just go home." He said, moving his hand from my shoulder to rustle my hair. The petulant part of me wanted to object to his use of the word 'home', but he was right. I was just tired. I nodded my head in silent acquiescence.

[][][][][]

The flight home had been fairly quiet and uneventful. That is to say that there were no events, just a sort of lingering awkward silence where neither uncle Jason nor I was sure what our relationship was going to be like. Now in his apartment, we had to communicate, even if it was just to figure out the sleeping arrangements.

"I figured you could probably sleep on the couch for the night, and we can figure something better out for you tomorrow." Uncle Jason said. I had spent the night at my uncle's before. It wasn't really something I did very often, but he had a comfortable plush couch that was just about perfect for napping. Of course, it was still a couch, and so getting a full night of restful sleep was sometimes a chore.

Instead of answering him, I trudged to the living room. "I got my bed." I said, managing a small smile. Within a small flourish of my right hand I had my bed-frame appear, then my box springs and finally my mattress, all within the span of a second. Uncle Jason actually took a step back. Apparently the sudden appearance of a full bed between his couch and his small TV was enough to get a surprise response from him.

"Well. 'guess that solves that, then." He said with the glimmer of a smile of his own. He paused, apparently taking stock of the situation. "Need some blankets, then?" He finally asked.

In response, I lazily reached down and unbagged a set of sheets, a pillow (and case), and a blanket. I think my powers did a better job of making my bed than I had ever managed; it looked pristine. After admiring my handiwork, I turned back around to him without really trying to suppress the smirk making its way to my face.

He rolled his eyes, and then started to head back toward his bedroom. "I'm going to get ready for bed, Guera. Don't forget to brush your teeth."

I wasn't sure why he had always focused on tooth-brushing as his hygienic activity of choice, but for some reason he would say it to me most times we would part company for an evening. Strangely, this time, it actually applied directly. His familiar expression did a lot to ease some of the awkwardness that had developed between us. But then I began to wonder: what if that was his intention? As the head of the Protectorate North he would probably have a lot of practice easing tension. Who's to say this wasn't calculated to do just that?

I had begun to relax slightly, seeing that uncle Jason and I could interact like we had before again and being in a familiar place. With the thought that uncle Jason may be just trying to play me like he probably did villains or politicians, all the anxiety and tension came back. I knew it was ridiculous. I had to be able to trust somebody sometime. If I couldn't trust anybody, then I wouldn't get anywhere, and uncle Jason had earned my trust over the course of my entire lifetime. He had earned it right up until he had become complacent in locking away my father and throwing away the key.

I heard his bedroom door close behind him, so I bagged all my clothes then unbagged my PJs, then made my way to his bathroom. At least what he had reminded me to do hadn't been up for questioning. My toothbrush appeared in one hand, my toothpaste in the other, and I began brushing my teeth. The same thought that always goes through my mind when brushing my teeth didn't fail this time. People brushing their teeth make absolutely ridiculous faces.

After cleaning my teeth, brushing my hair, and washing my face, I made my way back to his living room where my bed was. Uncle Jason didn't take much longer to finish his own evening ritual before he came back out. He went into the kitchen and got a glass of water, then made his way to his kitchen table where he would have a view of me sitting on my bed, pulled the chair from under the table to face the living-room instead, and sat.

The layout of the one-bedroom apartments was a bit different than the two-bedrooms, but the kitchen, dining room, and living room was nearly the same. The chair that uncle Jason had chosen corresponded pretty directly to the place my father had occupied the last time I had seen him. When he had told me I was Simurgh-tainted. When I had walked out on his desperate pleas.

I pushed the association from my mind, trying to pay attention as uncle Jason began to speak.

"So, um. Don't go trying to run off again, okay Lily? I don't want to have to chase you down again. Alright?" He said, scratching his bearded neck as he broached the subject that he obviously would have preferred not to talk about.

I stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded. "I won't," I said.

"Okay." He said, obviously a bit relieved and just as obviously not sure that he believed me. "Anything else you need?"

"No, I'm good." I said, grabbing the covers to my bed and sliding myself in. "Night uncle Jason."

"Night Guera. Wake me up if there's anything you need." He said, getting up and putting his glass in the sink. He turned off the light, then walked over and briefly placed a hand on my head. I could just make his form out as it disappeared into the hallway. I heard the shuffling of his feet as he made his way to his bedroom, then the creaking of his bed as he got into it, and then the only sound I could hear came from the city far below.


	12. Chapter 1:12

Waking up to the smell of breakfast wasn't something I was very familiar with. I think on most occasions, I would really like it. However, the night before I had planned on waiting for half an hour or so, and then assessing the situation to see whether or not I was going to make good on my agreement to try to not run away. It wasn't that I was sure I wanted to, but I wasn't sure I didn't want to either. It was very predictable in hindsight, but my plan had been foiled for the ridiculous reason of my falling asleep while I was waiting.

So the choice was out of my hands. I may as well accept it for now. It was probably for the best anyway, since it had seemed like he might have been expecting me to dash at the first chance I got. I may not have made it. For all I knew, there had been PRT agents stationed to watch all the exits, just so I couldn't leave without being seen.

Given the circumstances, I did the sensible thing: I had some breakfast. The bacon was slightly crispy but not too crunchy like some strange people liked it; the pancakes were light and fluffy; and the scrambled eggs were covered with cheese. In other words, breakfast was perfect. I had experienced uncle Jason's culinary aptitude before, but it had always baffled me. He had no reason to be good at cooking: no wife, no dependents, and he never hosted parties.

"I still don't understand," I mumbled, gesturing with my fork, "how you're such a good cook." It was a conversation we'd gone over before.

He grinned, leaning back from his own plate. "What can I say? It's just something I've always enjoyed."

I cut another slice off my stack of pancakes. After a few moments of thoughtful chewing, I finally swallowed and retorted, "I can see that, but that doesn't explain how you've ever found the chance to practice. I'm pretty sure you're not the type of guy to cook up a big meal for ten people every couple of days, and then just throw it out because you don't have ten people to eat it."

His grin only widened. "Well, Lily," he said, "I can actually tell you the real reason now." After taking a sip of orange juice, he continued, "In the early days of the Protectorate, we had a lot of long nights or early mornings trying to bring order to a city that wasn't sure if our legitimacy would stick. Had to work hard, long shifts, and that meant a lot of takeout. Everyone was getting tired of it, and so I started cooking. Even then, there was a fair amount of down time. Had to be ready at a moment's notice, but sometimes nothing would happen for hours. I realized that cooking helped me relax." He said with a shrug, looking at a wall but seeing memories from decades ago. "Made me pretty popular with the rest of the team, too." He finished, his old grin firmly back in place.

His mention of a team made me start to wonder. What were the Wards going to be like? Uncle Jason obviously spoke fondly of his days as a Ward, but my team could easily be different. I suddenly began to get apprehensive. I wasn't all that popular at school, what if nobody in the Wards liked me? I had grown adept at ignoring the petty insults and childish posturing in high school, but soon I would be meeting people that could literally change the world. People that I would have to rely on, and many of them were my peers! What if they thought I was a stuck-up ice queen there, too?

And here I was worrying about a team that I wasn't even sure I wanted to join. Sure, I had spent the last week pining to get admitted as a Ward. It had basically been all I could think about. But now...Well, the team still sounded interesting, but the PRT oversight was something I wasn't interested in. There were a few small independent hero teams in Chicago. I could probably join one of them, and not have to worry about working for the system that had ruined my entire nuclear family's life.

But a small part of me protested. "You're free now" it said. I stomped down hard on that part of me, but I had already thought it.

"Well," uncle Jason said, pushing his plate away from himself and leaning back in his chair. "You ready for your first day as a probationary Ward?"

I realized that either I had eaten enough to feed a small village, or the unhappy path of my ruminations had extinguished my appetite. Probably both. An errant minority of me was still really excited. Yuck. Apparently I was still had a bit of fangirl in me.

"Uh...sure. Yeah." I said lamely. "Let me just get ready."

[][][][][]

If uncle Jason would have told me that we were going to a gym, I probably wouldn't have dressed so nicely. It was the same gym I had left after giving my statement to the PRT several days and a whole different outlook on life ago. I felt a little conspicuous entering Bar-Belle's with my hair done nicely with just the right amount of curl and wearing a semi-formal skirt and blouse. Uncle Jason had protested when I had done up my hair and chosen that outfit to make appear, but I was certainly not going to look frumpy on my first day as a Ward.

Uncle Jason signed into the gym with me as a guest. He was even carrying a gym-bag to complete the look! It seemed like the type of gym that kept costs low by offering the amenities and nothing more. Sure, it looked clean and safe, but there were no large elaborate lobbies or wide furnished hallways that could be used as for walking or waiting. This gym was for exercise in its various forms.

We made our way back to one corner where there were a handful of private "family" changing rooms, each of which had two doors; one to the lobby, and one to the swimming area. Entering the third of four changing rooms, uncle Jason gestured me inside and firmly closed the door behind us. Smiling at me conspiratorially, he twisted the lock and then pulled out what was apparently some sort of key, but actually looked like a piece of metal about the thickness of a clothes-hanger wire attached to a plastic handle. All in all, it was about two inches long. There was hole that looked completely inconspicuous beneath the lock on the door that he inserted it into.

"This is where we change into our hero identities." He said, opening his gym bag. I quickly turned around to give him some privacy, then made my boring old t-shirt mask appear on my head. I pulled tight the sleeves, and then waited.

After a brief period, I heard the slightly-changed voice of Myrddin saying "Okay." I turned around just as he pulled on one of the hangers protruding from the wall that was set up for clothes. It swiveled to reveal a keypad.

After uncle Jason entered in a numeric code, I could feel the familiar sensation of an elevator without any of the accompanying noises. The door rose past the ceiling and the elevator ride ended just as quickly and abruptly as it had begun with only an opening where the door had been. I could feel a grin on my face and noticed uncle Jason looking at me with a very similar one on his under the cowl. We stepped out into the sparsely furnished underground tunnel that looked familiar from my previous excursion, though the elevator changing room was new.

From there, it was several hundred yards through the dimly-lit tunnel to the PRT base proper. Once we rounded a gentle curve, I could see the termination of the tunnel and realized that we were likely directly below the pier. Civilians visiting the PRT gift shop could be walking right over our heads at this very moment. The three guards stationed at the door leading into the base proper looked just as serious and unfriendly as they ever did.

As we approached, I could see that one of the guards had what looked like a pair of oxygen tanks strapped to his back. From these tanks ran a thick black hose terminating in a holstered weapon. Containment foam, I realized.

The right-most guard raised a hand when we were about fifteen feet away and said "Master/Stranger protocols sir. Please state your password." The containment foam sprayer was removed from its holster and leveled at us. Honestly, it was unnerving, even knowing that containment foam was supposed to be harmless.

Uncle Myrddin's voice sounded somewhat surprised as he said, "Myrddin. Monkey Green Kappa Four-One-Three."

The third guard radioed the password in, then apparently got a response. "Sir, what did Alexandria get you for your surprise party two years ago?"

Uncle Myrddin chuckled. "She wasn't there, but she sent a card. No money. We had a good laugh about how stingy she apparently was."

"Thank you sir." The guard replied. "We need to separate you from your guest to verify that she isn't controlling you in any way, but then you two can be on your way."

The other guard, the first one to speak approached me with a pistol drawn, though it was pointed at the ground. I hadn't even seen him draw it. My nervousness ratcheted up another notch. There was something wrong.

"Hello, Ma'am. I'm going to ask you to follow me over there a short ways." He said, gesturing with his shoulders more than his hands holding the weapon. "Do not make any sudden movements. Do not attempt to speak. Do not attempt to touch me. Do you understand? Nod or shake your head."

I almost opened my mouth to answer before I could help it. The other non-containment-foam guard was leading uncle Myrddin into the building. I was alone out here with these PRT agents. This wasn't good. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.

"Ma'am. Do you understand? Nod or shake your head. Now." The guard said sternly. His weapon was a fraction higher. Just barely pointed at the ground and not at me now.

I nodded, scared and subdued. If this was a trap, I was pretty sure there was nothing I could do.

"Follow me." He said as he began backing away from the entrance, never allowing his back to be facing me, never taking his eyes off me. Or so I presumed. His eyes were invisible inside his large high-tech looking helmet.

We went a short distance, probably less than ten feet, before he stopped and said, "Stay there." After a moment's hesitation to be sure that I was complying, he circled around me so that he was once again looking toward the incoming hallway and facing away from the PRT base. I noticed, however, that he kept from blocking the other agent's line of fire.

"Remember, do not speak. Do you know why you are here? Nod or shake your head." He said, his tone back to 'hard and uncaring' instead of 'terrifying and threatening.'

I nodded.

"Do you know Myrddin? Nod or shake your head." He asked.

I nodded. And then, we waited. It probably wasn't actually very long, but it was exhausting and unnerving and terrifying for me. I wasn't sure what to do, but with each passing moment, I was certain that something bad was going to happen. After less than thirty seconds, I could see the foam-wielding guard holster his weapon, which was mirror almost unerringly by the guard nearest me. His ready stance relaxed and he approached, empty hand out.

"Sorry about that, Ma'am. It's protocol." He said with a shrug. "I'm Agent Jennings."

Only then did I realize that the hand was meant to be a handshake. Still a bit shaken up, I hesitated, but eventually took the offered hand. "Uh...I'm not sure of my cape-name yet. But hi." I said lamely.

As we approached the door, the third guard exited and held the door open for me. "Sorry, Ma'am. He's just in there."

I walked through the door to finally see uncle Myrddin again. The PRT agents closed the door behind us and presumably went back to their posts. I had been worried about joining the Wards, but this was not exactly what I had been worried about. Maybe the actual meeting would go more smoothly. Hopefully.

"So, what was that all about?" I asked.


	13. Chapter 1:13

Uncle Myrddin seemed tense from what I could discern by the way he was holding himself. I couldn't see much of his face under his cowl, but what I could see confirmed the suspicion. He didn't answer my question right away. When he did, his voice sounded distracted, like he was thinking about issues that were far away.

"I'm...not sure." He said, taking the handful of steps to get into the tinker-tech elevator. "I was hoping to be with you for your first day as a Ward and walk you through as much of it as I could, but I may be needed elsewhere."

As he was speaking the doors on the elevator slid silently closed and it presumably began whisking us away to wherever it was we were supposed to be. How did it even know? A part of me felt paranoid at the idea, but it was probably just a remnant of the adrenaline I had from the confrontation with the guards. A few moments barely passed from when uncle Myrddin was speakng to me until his hand reached up and tapped his left ear.

"Myrddin, signing in. What's going on?" He said with a look at me that I interpreted to mean he was apologizing for not being able to wait to do this until we were apart.

I strained to listen to the other side of the conversation, but I didn't even hear a murmur. No luck there, and whatever they were saying on the other side, Myrddin's features stayed under control.

"Affirmative. How long ago was the first one?" He asked.

With uncle Myrddin mostly getting filled in instead of talking, I was left without even half a conversation to try to piece together what was happening. I wasn't getting a lot of information this way. The next time he looked at me, I quirked my eyebrows at him questioningly. He shook his head: he wasn't going to tell me what was happening. I suppressed a sigh.

It was strange how I had been trust into this world with concerns and worries that I wasn't even sure if I wanted to be a part of. Here I was worrying about whatever the big thing the Protectorate and the PRT were worrying about, when I wasn't exactly their biggest fan. The truth was, I didn't want to burn any bridges, but I needed time to process. I didn't want to forcibly cut all ties to the PRT just to wake up in a week regretting that I couldn't go back. Add in to everything else that things were happening too fast and I was having to make too many decisions before I could completely think through their ramifications, and so all I could do was my best to leave as many options open for myself as possible. If I needed time to sort my feelings out, then I would have to just press on until I got the time, and in the meantime, I would just have to do the best I could do was burn as few bridges as possible.

The elevator doors opened as silently as they had closed, which prompted Myrddin to tap his earbud again and say, "Okay. Hey listen. I'll be there in five minutes. Get a meeting scheduled to start in fifteen, we need to get on top of this. I can tell the director."

Finally, he looked back to me as we exited the elevator. "Sorry L...Grab-Bag," he said, glancing around to see if anyone caught his near-mistake. Fortunately there was nobody around, just an office drone down the hallway a bit carrying a box that looked just heavy enough to take seriously and just large enough to be annoying. "I'm going to have to rush through a lot of your first-day stuff, but I'm sure the other Wards will take good care of you." He said, laying a hand on my shoulder to help walk me to where we were going.

His mention of the Wards brought back my worries from earlier in the morning. I had not envisioned meeting my new team right in the middle of some sort of crisis where I didn't even know what was going on. I didn't want to start off my career as a burden that had to be looked after and brought up to speed when time was crucial. First impressions were supposed to be important...and my first impression was probably going to be during a time when everyone had bigger things to deal with. Great, there went my chances of forming tight-knit friendships with the people I could rely on like in all the teenage-hero sitcoms.

Uncle Myrddin didn't give me nearly enough warning when he said, "This is Director McCurdy's office." Just before rapping his knuckle a single time against the door, then turning the knob and letting himself in.

Instead of doing something useful, my mind instead latched onto the wooden name-plate just to the left of his door. Yep, it said 'Director Steven McCurdy' all right. How useful to verify that, of all things.

My gaze swept into the room and to the polished wooden desk that seemed nearly too large for the space, but too small for the workload on top of it. His work was arranged into neat piles that left the impression that he had a lot of work to do, but also that he stayed on top of it. McCurdy himself seemed less disheveled than when I had seen him previously late in the evening. He had paused as we entered, a pen poised over some form or another with a very official-looking seal at the top.

After seeing who had entered his office, he gestured to us to enter, then finished signing the document, stamped it with a self-inking stamp, and stuck the single page into a piece of equipment that seemed to scan it-either a fax machine or a scanner. During this, Myrddin entered and held the door for me, closing it after I stepped inside.

"Ah, Lily wasn't it?" At my nod, McCurdy continued. "Well, welcome to the Wards. Jason there has signed all the guardian oversight documents already for permission, so we'll just have to get both of your signatures on one or two more things, and then you'll officially be a Ward! Well, a probationary Ward anyway. But the 'probationary' part will go away once Jason becomes your legal guardian." He said as he shuffled some papers around, then scooted over to a filing cabinet and rifled through it.

He brought out a file, extracted two separate stapled documents, and splayed them before uncle Myrddin and I to sign.

'This one," he said, moving the one in his left hand just enough so we would know which he was talking about, "basically says that you will obey your commanding officer and that the PRT is allowed to tell you what to do. And that you'll do it. And this one," he continued, moving the decidedly thicker document in his right hand this time, "says that you relinquish all proprietary rights over strategies or other ideas that you have. This covers stuff like tinker-tech, but it's a lot more general than that. It basically says that anything you think up is still yours, but that the PRT or Protectorate can legally use any idea or blue-print you have any way that they see fit."

Uncle Myrddin took the offered pen and flipped to the last page. His signature looked tiny and slightly uneven on the line when he moved onto the next document, putting the same undersized signature on it. Then he held the pen out to me. When I went to take it, however, his grip stayed tight on it, not allowing me to extract the pen from his hand.

"I've read over every revision of each of these documents as part of my job as the leader of the Protectorate North. Even so, I should have at least skimmed over these if I wasn't in such a hurry. Read these carefully before you sign them and make sure that you agree with them fully." He said, his tone making it clear how serious he was about legal documents.

I nodded. A small part of me found it exceedingly funny how serious he was taking all of this, but I understood the reason. I'd seen too many movies where somebody signs something without reading it and binds themselves to something horrible that they only learn about much later. Not a mistake I was planning on making.

Uncle Myrddin released the pen and turned to Director McCurdy. "I've scheduled a meeting in ten minutes about the..." his eyes darted to me, then away. "...Master/Stranger issue. If you have the time, I would appreciate it if you could attend so we can try to get ahead of this thing. I can call in some heroes if you're getting too short-staffed."

McCurdy nodded. "Go on then, Myrddin." He said.

With a single glance in my direction accompanied by a smile, Myrddin's burlap-clad figure had turned heel and departed the room. His absence was jarring. My lifeline, my one ally, had left. Still gripping the pen, I turned my gaze back to director McCurdy.

Just as my mind began thinking about the situation again and I thought to perhaps pry for information from the director, he moved to gather up the forms. "I'm going to take you to my secretary. Joseph can answer any questions you have, and he's a more fun to talk to than I am. I'm sorry, but I have a lot on my plate, just like Myrddin. Joseph will take care of ya'."

Joseph's desk was just down the hallway. When the director had said secretary, I had presumed somebody that gets dry-cleaning or answers the telephone. On seeing his and Director McCurdy's interactions, however, it became quickly apparently that Joseph was more like a second-in-command than a secretary. McCurdy approached the desk with me in tow. "Joseph."

"Sir." Joseph said, fluidly moving from sitting with impeccable posture and typing to standing at attention. Just by the way he held himself, he seemed like a very by-the-book sort of guy. Which many people might use as an insult. Usually, I preferred it. Assuming the book wasn't wrong, of course.

"This is our newest Ward. Make sure she has the opportunity to read through all this paperwork and sign it. Then get her the standard NDAs and introduce her to the team. Tecton can administer the field evaluations." McCurdy said, handing over the paperwork he had carried from his office. "Oh, and she hasn't chosen a name yet. See if PR has any openings today."

Taking the paperwork, Joseph nodded once. "Of course, sir. Anything else?"

Shaking his head, Director McCurdy turned to me. "Sorry I have to pawn you off too. I'm sure you'll fit in just fine here. It's good to have you on the team." He said, extending a hand.

I took the hand and shook it. His hand was almost too large for mine, and his grip was firm. When shaking hands, I always worried that I wasn't squeezing hard enough and this was no exception. I mean, I didn't want to clamp down as hard as I could, because that would be ridiculous...but at the same time, everyone seemed to say that people liked a person with a firm handshake.

Just as McCurdy looked like he was getting ready to leave, Joseph discreetly interrupted. "Sir?"

"Yes Joseph? You can just say it you know." McCurdy answered with a grin. This was apparently a well-rehearsed line.

"Of course sir. Myrddin has scheduled a meeting for nine twenty-five. That's in about ten minutes, sir." He somehow managed to ask even though he never actually uttered a question.

Before the statements-question had even finished being spoken, McCurdy had turned around and started walking away. "Yeah, I already know. Of course I'm going to it, for God's sake."

As McCurdy disappeared into an unmarked door, Joseph's posture relaxed into what movies had informed me was a parade rest. I doubted he ever really relaxed much past that. "Here you are miss." He said, handing me the two packets that he had been handed only moments before. "And the non-disclosure agreement, miss." He said with just the hint of a smile, extracting a third packet from a drawer. "Is there anything else you need? I could get you a drink."

Shaking my head, I took the packets and sat down in a chair across from his desk to read.

[][][][][]

I had done as uncle Jason had wanted and read through everything. A lot of it was legalese that may as well have been in another language for all I could make heads or tails of it. There was a lot of talk about different parties, but I was pretty sure nobody would end up throwing any.

Joseph, for his part, had worked almost fervently. I wasn't sure this was how he always worked, but if it was, he was either a very hard worker, or very good at making it seem like he was. Whichever the case, after I had signed my name the final time and stood up, he had immediately put what he was working on aside to escort me to meet the other Wards.

Even in the elevator, Joseph stood at parade rest. While walking down hallways, he had marched with pinpoint precision. At the time, I had wondered if he felt any frustration that his boots didn't click because of the hallway's carpeting.

Specifically, we were in an elevator headed up or down or some random direction I couldn't be sure of to meet my future team. The Wards. These were some of the most famous people in the city and I was going to meet them! I was going to be them! Okay Lily, don't panic. I realized how ridiculous I looked in my homemade costume. Wait, I didn't even have a name yet! How was I going to introduce myself? No, don't do that, Lily! That's exactly the opposite of what I was just saying to do. I said don't panic! Well, crap. I was panicking.

I forced myself to take a deep breath. Then another. I wasn't sure it was helping, but at least it gave my something to focus on instead of having my thoughts go twirling around in who knows which direction.

The elevator doors opened to reveal another set of doors. They were about ten feet away from the elevator, and they looked a lot more serious. Joseph and I exited into the antechamber and he pushed a button.

Nothing happened.

He turned to me and said, "This is a warning to allow them to meet you in costume. It is strongly encouraged for everyone to reveal their identities to one other, but not required. We'll wait for about a minute so they can prepare." Then he stopped talking.

I wasn't really sure what to say, and so instead I decided that it was more pertinent to silently hyperventilate instead of saying anything.

Eventually, he broke the silence again. "Well, that's probably long enough. Let me be the first to officially welcome you to the team!" He said, a genuine smile breaking out on his face. Huh, he was pretty handsome when he eventually smiled. We shook hands, but this time it felt a lot more natural.

Then, despite the fact that I was a nervous wreck and completely not ready for this, he turned and opened the door.


	14. Chapter 1:14

The door would do any number of science-fiction sets proud with a hiss of air as the door ascended into a slot above. Past the door was a short hallway that quickly expanded into a large open area that looked like it could be a common room or a meeting area. I could see various other hallways and doors connected to the room, though none of the doors seemed as high-tech as the one I was standing outside of.

Standing in the middle of the common room, almost looking arranged like their picture on a poster I had seen not so long ago, stood the Chicago Wards. Well, four of them. I had done some research on Parahumans Online when I was trying to figure out who uncle Jason had been. I was mostly looking at the Protectorate, but I had skimmed the Wards section several times, so everyone looked familiar.

I stepped through the door when Joseph gestured for me to, and the boy in power armor raised a hand in greeting. Beside him stood two girls and another boy, and they were all also bedecked in their full costumes. They all looked very good and very professional. I felt frumpier than ever.

Joseph stepped forward once more, his stance as prim as ever. "Wards, this is your newest member. She has an appointment scheduled with a PR adviser later today, but hasn't chosen a name yet. Miss, this is Tecton, Grace, Animus, and Raymancer."

As he said their names, they each made gestures of acknowledgement. When Joseph had finished speaking, the tinker in power armor, Tecton, audibly stepped forward. "Hi. Welcome to the Wards!" He said. There was genuine warmth in his voice that somehow made me feel both excited to be here and even more mortified by my outfit.

Okay, I seriously had to get something more professional looking. And a cape name, for goodness sake.

Grace and Raymancer made their way forward while Animus stood where she was, just watching. Animus's mask covered most of her face, but her body language seemed to convey boredom and maybe a hint of hostility. I didn't really have time to worry about it, though, because Raymancer and Grace had made their way over.

"So, what would you like to be called?" Grace asked, leaning casually against the sparsely furnished metallic wall.

"Uh...well, I had to go by Grab-Bag once when I was forced to think of a name." I said. Wow, I sounded lame. Great first impression Lily. I attempted to insert a little humor as I finished. "Not that I would want that as permanent name!"

Tecton and Grace laughed graciously. Not that I believed for a second that they thought it was actually funny. As Raymancer was opening his mouth to ask his own question, I caught Tecton making subtle gestures toward Animus to get her to come closer.

"So what are you into, Grab-Bag?" Raymancer asked. He made it sound like there was a definite right answer to the question. Experience made me realize that I would probably disappoint him, though.

"Into? Oh, I dunno. Um. I guess I'm into Track and Field. And I thought about joining debate next year, but I've never done it. What about you?" I finally asked, attempting to deflect some of the attention to get time to think.

Apparently that caught him completely off guard. Which it really shouldn't have; it was a normal social nicety, wasn't it? I could see hints of a slight blush on the lower half of his face visible behind his mask.

"Uh. Well..." He spluttered, "I mean I sorta' like lots of things..."

He was evading the question. Trying to give himself time to think. Oh man, I knew what Raymancer was. He was totally a huge nerd. Unfortunately, the only experience I had with socializing with the "nerdy" cliques at my school involved turning one down for a date once, and then being called "Ice Queen" ever after. Ugh, what if Raymancer went to my school? That could make things pretty awkward.

After his momentary hesitation, Raymancer finally mustered up the courage to voice his preferences. "But, well... I guess I'm really into computer games and PNP RPGs. Oh and reading."

"Cool." I nodded to him, trying not to do anything offensive. Then I turned to Grace. "And what about you?"

Her smile came quickly and easily. "Well, I used to be really into gymnastics," she said. With a light laugh, she did a back-bend into a one-handed handstand. When I looked closer, I noticed she was balanced on a single gloved finger. I felt like I should cheer and clap or something, but she quickly finished the maneuver by righting herself. "I don't think I could keep my identity secret if I tried to do gymnastics now." She said, a grin plastered across her face.

"Showoff." Raymancer muttered good-naturedly, and received a playful hit from Grace in return.

Clearing his throat, Joseph stepped forward again. "Tecton, Campinile will be in meetings most of the day, so Director McCurdy is leaving it to you administer the field evaluations." He looked to me and the Wards. "Any questions?"

At the silence and shaking of heads, he gave a curt nod and spun on his heels, disappearing through the door without another word.

As the door whooshed closed, I turned to face the Wards again. To my surprise, Raymancer's hands were already making their way to his mask-an eyepatch combined with a giant lens over the other eye. Undoing a clasp, he pulled it off with a flourish and in the same motion brought his other hand to his midsection in a bow. "Bobby Forney. Pleased to meet you."

I didn't even have time to wonder if I would know him before I recognized that I didn't. Raymancer had short-cut red hair and a narrow face that his mask did a decent job of disguising. Even as I was noticing these details, I saw that Grace and Tecton were reaching toward their own mask and helmet respectively.

Grace lived up to her name. She was naturally beautiful with long brown hair that had just the right amount of curl. The simple-seeming costume she wore did a good job of accentuating her dancer's form, and the blue of her costume matched the blue of her eyes perfectly, which were a striking counterpoint to the hints of Asian heritage on her otherwise Caucasian features.

I couldn't really see Tecton's physical features past his suit besides his head, and only that because he had removed his helmet. His hair was also brown, though cut on the short side, even for boys. His face seemed like it fit inside his armor even without the helmet, which is to say it looked more like a jock's face than one I could imagine staying up all-hours in a workshop getting his equipment "just so."

"Uh, Hi." I started, just as the idea came to me. Before I could talk myself out of it just because of whatever problem Animus seemed to have with me, I raised a hand in greeting and bagged my shirt-turned-mask. "I'm Lily."

[][][][][]

'Field Evaluations' apparently consisted of abusing the subject with physical exertion until they collapsed, and then stress-testing their powers. Fortunately, I had some exercise clothes with me. Carrying your whole wardrobe is handy like that. Unfortunately, my clothes were drenched in sweat and I was already feeling the strain from the 'workout' portion of the evaluations. At this particular moment, I was sitting on the floor, gasping for breath during my "fifteen minute cool-down."

Tecton, also known as Lance, had changed out of his power-armor to an "under-armor enhanced exo-suit" as he called it. It, of course, shared his armor's red and grey accent scheme, but I could get a pretty decent feel for how he looked under the suit. My main observation: he seemed taller out of the suit than in it.

Animus hadn't unmasked to me, but the other team-members later said that her behavior was pretty normal, and I just had to give her time. Guess I couldn't hope for a perfect reception. No, that would be too easy.

Raymancer had apparently gone back to a video game that he had been playing. Grace (AKA Stephanie, or Steph for short) had come along to watch me suffer, but was gracious enough to ask my permission, first.

As my breath began coming in something more even and less ragged and desperate for oxygen, I saw Tecton right himself from leaning on a wall, clipboard in hand. It looked like break was coming to an end. Well, that was fine, as long as the exercise portion was over.

"Now for the interesting part. Powers!" He said. Either he was actually excited, or he feigned it pretty well. I guess it would be a bit exciting to see a new power, even if the power was underwhelming like mine was.

He offered me a hand to help me stand up, which I took. Grace had risen from her chair and approached as well. I think I caught the hint of a grin of excitement as well. Okay, even I had to admit it would be cool to see somebody demonstrating a new power. Trying to decipher how it worked, or what its limitations were.

"Okay," Tecton said, looking at his clipboard and pen in hand. "I think this eval would probably work best in the equipment room. At least for now. Right this way." He said, then turned and strode toward a door opposite the one we had entered from.

As we began walking, Grace clapped an arm around my shoulder. "This is going to so cool." She said.

I was surprised and bit uncertain about the physical familiarity, but it actually felt pretty good. Grace seemed friendly, and nice enough. I could actually see myself becoming pretty close friends with some of these people.

After only a few steps, I returned the gesture, putting my arm around her, too. "Yeah."

It felt awkward and uncomfortable, but not because the action itself was. Just that two people of similar height trying to put their arms around one another at the same time doesn't really work well. We held the pose all the way to the equipment room anyway.

I'm not sure what I expected from a Wards equipment room (or maybe this area serviced the PRT and Protectorate, too?), but it seemed incredibly mundane. There were long rows or locked cabinets, weight and other exercise equipment. It had rubber balls, exercise mats, and a volleyball net, but I didn't catch sight of any containment foam sprayers, no handguns, and not a single grenade. Absolutely boring.

Anyway, Tecton, Grace, and I entered the room and selected some light weights used for cardio workouts. Lance/Tecton then retrieved his pen and raised his clipboard.

"Okay, so we've seen you use your power on your mask. What else can you do with it?" He asked. "This is where Grace and I will try to come up with any questions we can about how it operates. There are some general guidelines on this form, but they have to be pretty basic to try to cover all of the bases. Basically."

I rolled my eyes, but I got the picture. Honestly, it sounded like fun. "Okay so, as I mentioned, I can disappear any number of things and make them reappear." I said, bagging half a dozen two-pound weights in the process. "I can use any part of my skin to make them disappear or reappear." I said, then put words to deed and made all the weights I had bagged reappear on the floor touching my feet.

Lanceton nodded, making notes on his clipboard. Stefface? Grephiny? Bleh, neither of those really worked. Steph (I guess) just watched, seemingly engrossed in my little presentation.

"I don't know how much I can hold, but I know it's a lot more than I can disappear at one time." I continued. I briefly considered trying to make everything in my space appear around me, but decided that would probably be too big a hassle to clean up; and possibly just a terrible idea anyway.

"How much can you disappear?" Grace asked. Man, I was loving her enthusiasm. She was like a little kid at the magic show.

"Well, I'm not sure." I said. "I've bagged a mattress before. Uh...sorry, bagged is what I call it when I make things disappear. Because it's kinda' like they disappear into my grab-bag. Anyway, I've bagged a mattress before, but when I decided to push myself and see if I could bag a car, all I ended up with was a headache."

Lance and Steph nodded knowingly. "Thinker headaches." Tecton said.

I wasn't really a thinker, so I didn't see that that applied to me, but I guess they could call it whatever they wanted. I shrugged and said, "maybe."

"Okay, so what else?" Tecton asked.

Just as I was thinking about what else I knew about my power, I heard a raised voice in the gym. "Hey, where are you guys? Have you gotten to the power eval yet?"

Shaking his head, Tecton raised his own voice to be heard. "Yeah, Bobby, we're in the equipment room."

As Raymancer, sans mask, entered through the same door we had, he looked around at us. "So, what'd I miss?"


	15. Chapter 1:15

I figured that Bobby hadn't really missed anything that he could pick up on as I went along, so I decided to continue on with my display. It was annoying, because he had definitely disrupted my thought process, and so I had to try to get my mind on the same track it was before. Lance and Steph had him come over and stand with them, and I tried to continue my presentation.

"I think my power gives me a running tally of everything that's in my Grab-Bag." I started. "Oh! I can make clothes or shoes appear on my body, but if I shape them into a knot or something it doesn't start off very tight, I have to tighten it by hand." With this, I made a pair of winter gloves appear on my hands and a checkered scarf around my neck.

And, um..." I stalled out. I couldn't really think of anything more. "I guess that's about it." I finished lamely.

"Cool, I think there's some good stuff here." Lanceton said. Then, looking to his other teammates, our other teammates, he asked, "Anyone have any questions before we get into the brainstorming session?"

Bobmancer (Oh how I wanted to call him Rayby) awkwardly raised his hand. "Uh, yeah. Hey Lily, have you ever tried seeing if you can count stuff with your power? Like if you absorbed a handful of sand, would you be able to tell how many there were? I just ask because you said you got a mental list of what you absorbed, and it gave me the idea."

As I shook my head, Lanceton gave him a look. "That sounds an awful lot like you were just wanting to get a jump on the brainstorming and decided to phrase it as a question." Looking to Grace, he said, "I don't have any questions before we move to that. Do you, Steph?"

Looking at me like she was solving a riddle, Steph answered Lance's question. "Well...if you don't mind Lily, could you walk us through your fight with Voltaic?" Before I could respond, she hurriedly continued. "I just ask because it might give us more information."

I shrugged. It wasn't really much of a fight and I didn't particularly care to go over it again, but I couldn't see the harm in it.

[][][][][]

"Three hundred sixteen million forty-one thousand eight hundred eighty-nine." They all stared at me. The idea of a handful of sand had morphed into a bucket full of sand. Apparently a byproduct of my power was that I could count the things I absorbed really easily. I was also noticing that I basically had a detailed understanding of the physical dimensions of each grain of sand that I had absorbed. And it had taken me less than ten seconds to get the entire bucket.

Holding out a hand over the bucket, I started unbagging the sand, just a few thousand at a time. It looked like a hand-shaped waterfall. In a strange way, it was beautiful.

I started moving my hand in small circles, seeing the patterns as the sand fell. It reminded me of water. I increased the complexity of my movements, pushing my hand down, then pulling it back. It looked like something I had seen before. It seemed like just a few weeks ago...Something on TV? Leviathan. The sand coming from my hand looked a lot like Leviathan's shadow in the snippets of the fight the news had released from Brockton Bay just weeks before. I stopped unbagging the sand.

Looking up, I could tell that Raymancer and Tecton had noticed it too. Grace noticed my face first, but quickly saw theirs as well. "What? What is it?" She asked with concern.

Shaking his head as if he were getting rid of a dream, Lanceton said, "Nothing. Just Lily's sand, it looked a little bit like Leviathan's shadow." Turning to me, he continued. "But really, it's nothing like that. This was a useful test, Lily. You can put the rest of the sand away, and then we can go on to the next thing."

I nodded and put my hand just over the pile of sand in the bucket. I pushed the sand out much more quickly this time, and the bucket was filled in a few seconds.

Fortunately, Lance was socially adept enough to keep it from becoming awkward. "The first test I thought about was whether you could make things appear inside of other things, or not. Like if you took a long pole, could you make it appear inside of a wall somehow? Or, the sheet recommends we see if your power is constrained by the Manton effect or not. Do you know what that is?" He asked.

When I nodded, he continued. "So which of those would you prefer?"

Uh... "Um...The Manton Limit one I guess. So what should I do, just try to absorb one of you or something?" I asked.

That brought a chuckle, which didn't really make me feel any better, because I hadn't really been joking. How else were you supposed to test that?

"We use-" Grace began.

"There are-" Tecton also began. They looked at one another. Tecton opened his mouth again to finish his sentence. "There are plants that we use to test that." He said. Walking to a door that I couldn't see where it led, he quickly returned with what looked like some sort of boring plant used to spruce up a living room. Note that I said boring, because it wasn't anything cool like a Venus flytrap or a vase plant. Not even a cactus. No, this was like the most boring fern I had ever laid eyes upon. So I didn't feel bad that we were risking its little plant life.

Tecton held out the small vase in the palm of his hand, and I approached, touching the plant. Looking around, I shrugged, then exerted my power. Nothing happened.

They looked at me for a few more moments until I said, "Uh...Nothing happened."

Everyone seemed pretty unsurprised by that. Honestly, I was too, but it would have been nice. And, I felt a little stupid not trying it sooner.

Taking a pair of clippers, Tecton clipped off a sprig of the plant and handed it to me. "See if you can absorb that. Obviously you can absorb cotton and wool that have been dead for a while. Probably wood, too. Everyone's Manton limits are a bit different. It would be useful to see if we can find yours."

Taking the sprig of fern, I exerted my power again. I shook my head to them: still nothing.

"That's still the most common. Most people can't absorb things that have immediately died or been cut off from their living tissue. We'll set this aside and see if you can bag it tomorrow." He said with a grin, probably about using my terminology.

As he was putting the sprig into a little baggy, Raymancer said "I'm not so sure we should try the wall thing you were talking about Lance. At first it sounded like a good idea, but imagine of it works? What happens when one thing's atoms intersect with another thing's? It could just shunt the foreign object out, but it could also cause a nuclear explosion. I'm not sure I want to be around for that, at least not without some Thinker feedback before we do."

Grace and I stared at him. A nuclear explosion? Well, wouldn't that be quite the way to go. I had certainly never considered my power able to produce nukes before.

"I don't think that's very likely, Bobby." Tecton said, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"Do you really want to risk it. Lance?" Raymancer responded, putting extra emphasis on Tecton's name.

Shrugging and shaking his head, Tecton conceded. "No, I don't. I can call a meeting with Alloy and we can run some tests. Once we do that we can submit it to Thinker oversight and see what they say." Then, looking to me, he added, "Unless you have any input that could solve this?"

A bit startled, I began to speak before really knowing how I would respond. "Well..." Unfortunately, that's all the further I got before I couldn't think of what else to say.

It made me wonder about my power. So much of what I did with it felt like it happened automatically. I didn't feel like trying to make something appear in the same space as a wall would really create a nuclear explosion, but I also didn't feel like it was a good idea. Now that I really thought about it, it seemed strange that I could make clothes or a mask appear on me without risking having one thing appear inside of another thing. In this case, the second thing being my own body. It was even more strange when I considered that how I "put my shoes on" involved making shoes appear first, and then making socks appear between my feet and the shoes. I couldn't just make the shoes appear around the socks, because when things appeared, they had to be touching me.

I took a few steps until I was only a few inches away from a wall. Tentatively, I considered making a ladle appear between my hand and the wall. I knew I could do it without even having to manifest it. I moved my hand a few inches closer, all the while keeping the ladle in my mind. In a make-believe part of my head, the ladle was sticking straight out of my hand with the handle pointing toward the wall. I felt the exact moment when I could no longer make the ladle appear in that configuration. Not with my hand that close, anyway.

In retrospect, it was really stupid what I tried next. Without really thinking of the consequences, I tried to force the ladle to appear, despite my power telling me it wouldn't. I snapped out of my ruminations when it felt like my hand was pushed backward by about an inch and the ladle appeared, balanced tightly between my palm and the wall. Okay, that was just really freaky. I was almost certain I hadn't moved my hand of my own volition. Had my power pushed me, or had it subconsciously forced me to move?

I looked up to see the rest of the team staring at me.

I could feel my features coloring. "I don't think I could even do it if I tried." I said, all to aware of how strange they probably thought I was. Sheepishly, I re-bagged the ladle.

"Ohh...kay." Raymancer said.

Grace swatted him on the shoulder. "That's fine, Lily. Saves us a lot of time wondering about it. So what'd it feel like?"

"Well..." I started again, rubbing my forehead. "I could sorta' feel when I could or couldn't unbag it in that orientation. When I got to a place I couldn't, I tried to force it and my hand just got pushed backward."

Nobody responded right away. I think they were all assimilating the information. Raymancer in particular had a frown on his face and his forehead was wrinkly. It was probably a sign he was thinking. Either that, or he was suddenly really angry about something. It looked like Tecton was about to speak up again when Raymancer beat him to the punch.

The look of concentration (I decided) was completely gone from his face, replaced instantly by one of excitement. "This might mean you can fly!"


End file.
